


Harry Potter and the Immortals

by TexasBean



Category: Baccano!, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dolores Umbridge has no idea what she's up against, F/M, Immortals, Minerva has connections to the mafia, Minister Fudge has no idea what he's up against, Minister Fudge is very stressed, New York Mafia, Not Canon Compliant, OCs can be a supporting cast, immortal wizards, poor poor Umbridge, there are quite a few ocs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-11-14 09:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 80,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18050333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexasBean/pseuds/TexasBean
Summary: Dumbledore is short a DADA Professor, and that means the Ministry gets to intervene with Hogwarts, so McGonagall decides to call on an old friend from long ago to help out. With Maiza unable to fill the position, enter Firo Prochainezo: an Immortal wizard, member of the Martillo Family, and unwilling to put up with a certain pink toad who holds the title of "High Inquisitor".





	1. When Desperate Times Calls for Desperate Measures, the Deputy Headmistress Comes to a Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! Thanks for giving this a read. Much appreciated. I seriously think Baccano! needs more love, as it's sadly underrated in my opinion. I honestly get excited when other people know what it is.
> 
> This takes place during OotP, and events and certain things are changed due to various characters' interference(s), so I will not be rewriting scenes if it can be avoided.
> 
> This is the first time I have written for both HP and Baccano! so if people are OOC in any way, I do apologize. There will also be slight AU from both universes.
> 
> It should go without saying, but I'm only going to say it once, so I don't have to repeat it with every chapter:
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter – J. K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> Baccano! is written by Ryohgo Narita and illustrated by Katsumi Enami
> 
> I only own the OCs and some of the plot.

The esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was currently sitting at his desk which had various stacks of parchment covering it. His office was very nearly filled to the brim with shelves that housed books and other magical artifacts, some of which clicked and whirred. Enchanted portraits of previous headmasters literally looked down on the old wizard, quietly whispering amongst themselves so as to not disturb him. Fawkes the Phoenix cooed and preened his feathers, casting the occasional glance at his master.

In spite of all the various noises in the office, it fell on deaf ears as Dumbledore was currently looking at something that very rightly caused him some concern. The parchment he was currently looking at over his half-moon glasses was from the Ministry of Magic, stating that they would like to appoint one Dolores Umbridge as the newest Defense against the Dark Arts Professor if he could not find a professor for that year. And here was where his problem arose; he had no teachers to speak of who were readily available, leaving Hogwarts open to the Ministry to do practically whatever they pleased.

Dumbledore gave a quiet sigh, removed his glasses and closed his eyes as he briefly massaged the bridge of his crooked nose. A part of him very nearly thought that he was getting too old for this. After putting his glasses back into their proper place, he looked back to the parchment in his hand, and saw that the Ministry required his response exactly two days from now, confirming Ms. Umbridge as the new Professor. Just then, there was a polite knock at his door, and giving another sigh, Dumbledore spoke up, "Come in, Minerva."

He easily recognized her knock, and McGonagall had long ago stopped questioning how he knew it was her every time. Minerva McGonagall entered the office, and gave Dumbledore a pleasant smile, one that she only reserved for him.

"Hello, Albus," she said, as she took a seat as soon as he motioned for her to do so. She denied the usual Lemon Drop that he always offered, and asked, "How are you doing, Albus?"

The tone in her voice clearly asked more than what her words did. Dumbledore gave her a small smile, and replied, "I'm afraid I can't find a new Defense teacher this year," and he handed McGonagall the parchment he had been looking at far longer than what should have been necessary. McGonagall read the parchment quickly, her mouth going into a firmer and tighter line of disapproval the more she read. "Of all the-"

Obviously, she wasn't very happy, and was far more vocal about it than Dumbledore had been. "They seriously can't be considering appointing one of their Ministry Officials as a professor; it's preposterous! And to have that woman nosing around, of all things…"

"It can't be helped, I'm afraid." Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk and laced his fingers together. "As I've said, there are no teachers available, so since I'm unable to fill the position, that leaves it open to the Ministry to do whatever they please."

McGonagall only nodded, but her mouth was now in a different type of firm line; one that showed she was thinking. "Albus…" she started, not looking at him at first. She now looked at the esteemed Headmaster, with an expression that both showed resolution and hopefulness. "What if I knew of someone who could possibly fill the position?"

"Who did you have in mind?" Dumbledore's eyes gave a mischievous twinkle.

"Well, he's a rather old friend of mine, from America; New York, to be exact." McGonagall looked thoughtful as she remembered him. "We've known each other for years, and he has trained wizards and witches – although not in a professional setting– but I have met his students, and they both love and respect him. I can personally account for his qualifications." A rare smile graced her lips, one that very few had ever seen. "His name is Maiza Avaro, and he is a very skilled wizard, if I do say so myself." That was saying quite a bit, coming from Minerva McGonagall. "You still have a little over two days to reply to the Ministry, and if I leave for New York now through the Floo Network, that should give us plenty of time."

Dumbledore nodded in response, and McGonagall brought a hand to her cheek in thought. "Although I don't exactly like approaching Maiza with so short a notice, he  _did_  say to come to him if I ever needed anything."

She was truly thankful that Maiza was as patient and as kindhearted as he was. She hated springing surprises on people just as much as she appreciated them being sprung on her. Dumbledore looked at Minerva with smiling eyes.

"I've always thought that Hogwarts could use a bit more of diversity," Dumbledore more than approved of her plan. And the fact that the Ministry wouldn't be happy justified his approval all the more.

"I'll contact you as soon as I know he's able to fill the position," McGonagall said as she rose from her seat, already making mental preparations for everything she would need for her trip. Dumbledore only nodded, rising as well.

"I wish you luck, Minerva."

"Thank you, although I certainly hope I won't need it," responded McGonagall. She quickly left the Headmaster's office, and headed for her own. Before she started packing, she made sure to contact the magical officials in America to let them know she'd be coming, and where she intended to go. Judging from her past experiences with the American Magical Ministry, and the stories others had told her, it would take a few hours for the American Ministry to process her order. A part of her honestly disliked having to deal with the American Magical Ministry, because although America was one country, it had Fifty Regions or Fifty States, (however one wanted to put it) and each State had its own set of laws that differed from State to State, and each State reported to the AMM. This meant she would have to call the AMM, who would then put her into contact with the officials in New York, who then open the Floo Network allowing her to travel.

McGonagall took a pinch of Floo Powder, and tossed it into her fireplace, and contacted the AMM. A woman's face appeared, smiling brightly. "Good evening!" she called, quite enthusiastically, and McGonagall was sure that the younger woman's enthusiasm radiated off of her and into the office. "My name is Trish. How may I be of service to you today?"

"Good evening," McGonagall began. "I'm Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress. I'm calling because I need to travel to New York, and it is of the upmost importance that I leave immediately. I'm afraid my time is rather short."

"Oh, hog sprites!" the woman on the other end beamed.  _"The_  Minerva McGonagall?"

McGonagall honestly worried for a moment that the woman would want to chat or ask questions, when she really didn't have that sort of time. The woman on the other end excitedly continued, "I've heard so much about you from my mom! She was a Gryffindor Keeper, Sally – Sally Hensworth, was her name before she got married!"

Before McGonagall could give any sort of answer, Trish glanced back and forth, almost conspiratorially and whispered, "Can you be ready to leave in an hour? I actually have a cousin who works in the New York branch, and he owes me  _quite a few_ favors."

"Yes, of course. Thank you." McGonagall said genuinely.

"Alright, I'll make sure to let the New York branch know you're coming," Trish said. "Have a good night, or a good day – depending on which side of the world you're on."

"Of course, thank you, you as well." McGonagall said just before the connection cut off. She took a deep breath; a sigh of relief. What were the chances? Luck seemed to be on her side. Not having any time to waste, she quickly rose and packed the necessary items she would need on her trip.

It was an hour and fifteen minutes until her fireplace lit up, showing the face of a young man, who had a rather cocky grin. "Hello, hello! I'm Ricky!" he greeted, and saluted. "Are you  _the_  Professor Minerva McGonagall that I've heard so much about from my lovely aunt?"

"Yes…" McGonagall wasn't sure if she would have the patience for this type of young man.

"That's great! Pack your bags and get ready to take a bite out of the Big Apple, Professor!" Ricky clapped his hands, not giving McGonagall a chance to get a word in edgewise. "Step on through, whenever you're ready."

She made sure that the cloak that she used for traversing in the muggle realm was fastened securely and neatly, and then picking up her bag, which was an old, but somehow fashionable carpet bag, and with a handful of Floo powder, she said, "534 Mallard's Den, New York City, America," and stepped through the Floo Network from Great Britain to New York.


	2. The Deputy Headmistress Asks for Help from a Very Unsuspected Source

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva makes her way to the American Ministry in New York to meet an old friend. She reminisces back to 1957, when everything started...

McGonagall arrived at the New York Branch of Magical Affairs, and when she composed herself and looked about the room, she noticed that it was very dark, and the only source of light in the room was coming from the wand of the only other person in the room, who was a grinning young man who was a full two heads taller than she was, and even though he was thin, he was filled out.

"You're Minerva McGonagall," he said, more as a statement instead of a question. "Be  _quiet,_   _please,"_ he insisted, a sense of desperation in his voice. "I'm Ricky, as I'm sure you know…and uh, follow me and don't talk to anyone. If anyone asks, just uh, say that you're my aunt or grandmother or something…"

"Just what is going on, young man?" McGonagall demanded in her no nonsense tone. Even though she was shorter than Ricky, he actually shrunk back, looking guilty. McGonagall could be very intimidating when she wanted to be.

"Well, uh…the thing is," he nervously began. "You may…not exactly…" Ricky scratched the back of his head as he refused to look McGonagall in the eye.  _"Be_  registered  _yet_ in our systems…I kinda put a rush on things, and I  _will_ sneak your file to the top, so someone'll get to it," he sounded more unsure than he was desperately trying not to look. "But uh, basically, no one knows you're here. I redirected the Floo Network to come from Hogwarts temporarily to this room. It's closed off for repairs. But anyway-"

"Wait one moment." McGonagall help up a hand, and her eyes narrowed and her voice was dangerously firm. "Are you telling me that I came to an  _entirely different country, through magical means, illegally?"_

"It depends on how you look at it." Ricky said quickly.

McGonagall scoffed, feeling as if she were dealing with a cross between the Weasley twins and the Golden Trio. Honestly! She could feel a headache coming on. Oh, Merlin. There were certain protocols that had to be followed very carefully, especially at times like these, given what had been going on for the past few years. After the events at the Tri-Wizard tournament, things had been tense in the magical community. Perhaps things were more lax in America because they were under the impression the Dark Lord had little to no influence over them.

Under normal circumstances, McGonagall would have been transported to an office space and then taken to the Head of the New York Branch's office, and would discuss her business with the person in charge, and would also fill out a copious amount of paperwork. Afterwards, she would be given an official badge and she would then be on her way. But, obviously, and blatantly so, these were not normal circumstances. She should have wondered just how she had gotten here so quickly. Even if she had said she was in a hurry, it would have – should have, taken much longer than a mere one hour and fifteen minutes to process any orders she may have had. She should have known that things were going far too easily.

"Here," Ricky motioned her over to a large desk where numerous sheets of parchment were spread. "I already took care of all the basic things, you just have to sign and fill out the required areas."

McGonagall moved stiffly, her expression and very posture itself expressed her displeasure. As she filled out the forms, she used the quill to point out one of the signed names. "Is that the New York Head's signature?"

"I, uh, may have filled it out for him." Ricky replied quickly. "I do it for him all the time." He glanced over at McGonagall and quickly looked away from her disapproving gaze, staring at the wall in front of them. "He's a very busy man."

Again, McGonagall's air of disapproval reared its ugly head. "May I ask why I am filling these out in a room that's currently not in use, instead of in the New York Head's office, as it  _should_ be?"

"You have no idea what my aunt and cousin are like." Ricky said miserably. "My aunt has always worshipped the ground you walk on, and in turn my cousin admires you. And…I  _really_  owe my cousin a few favors…" Ricky looked somewhat embarrassed and peeved as he mentioned being in some sort of debt with his cousin. "So I kinda took a few shortcuts to get you in and out much faster than you normally would have. I mean, I admit I may have bent the rules a  _little_ bit…"

He scratched the back of his head, and pointed to the parchment. "A-anyway, aren't you in a hurry? We should get all of this taken care of."

McGonagall wordlessly signed and dated everything she needed to, and Ricky quickly gave her a small badge that she could pin on her coat that indicated her name and status, and he then gathered up the parchment into a file, and indicated for her to follow him. Taking her bag into her hand, McGonagall did just that, her mouth shut in a firm line. Ricky peeked out of the room before they exited, and he closed the door behind her once she walked out.

The office was a very busy place, and had apparently embraced the technical age of the time, because nearly every one of the desks had a large computer on them, and the sounds of ringing phones filled the air. McGonagall remembered hearing rumors from friends who had family in the Ministry that had the occasional disagreement with their American counterparts. American wizards changed with the times and at on occasion tended to look down on British wizards whom they viewed as old fogies stuck in the past; while some British wizards viewed the Americans as traitors of sorts who embraced "filthy Muggle means" to accomplish the things they believed only magic could do. At least the majority of American wizards that headed their respective Magical Departments managed to keep things  _somewhat_  civil, while all of the Muggle-born wizards and the more open-minded pure-blood wizards like Arthur Weasley embraced any changes and successfully kept the peace – most of the time.

Ricky was about to tell McGonagall something, when he suddenly tightened up and a huge, all-too-friendly smile plastered itself onto his face. "Minister Ryker! How are you this fine evening?"

Minister Ryker was a large rotund man, with a graying beard, rosy cheeks, and a receding hairline that made almost all of the younger folk employed by the New York Magical Ministry be under the impression that he had a dollop of cream on his head. He wore a suit that looked very similar to that of a music conductor, and chewed on a toothpick.

"Ricky, my boy!" Minister Ryker called out in an unnecessarily loud voice, and he approached Ricky and McGonagall with a large grin on his face. He slapped Ricky on the shoulder, continuing to talk as if he were on the other side of the room trying to be heard over the din. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Ricky replied as he acted as casual as a person who was trying to play innocent would. "How-how about yourself, sir?"

"Fine, fine," Minister Ryker waved a hand. "Good as always. Who might this be?"

His attention was now on McGonagall, but before the Deputy Headmistress could respond, Ricky spoke up, seeming to forget what he had said earlier about her being a family relation. "This is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. She was just in your office not long ago, when you were signing all those forms. I even have some of them right here." Ricky lifted said forms slightly.

"Is that so?" Minister Ryker said, looking absolutely perplexed. "I suppose…ah! Yes, I remember now, Minerva McGonagall! Hogwarts!" He guffawed. "Do forgive me, Ms. McGonagall, how silly of me for forgetting! These things tend to blend together when you have so much going on. I'm sure you understand. Have a good day, Deputy Headmistress."

McGonagall gave Ricky a stern glare, her mouth in a firm line, but once again Risky shrugged. It seemed to be his go-to response.

"His wife wants him to retire because he works himself so hard; but he's such a nice guy, he enjoys his job, and everyone loves him…I feel guilty when I have to cover for him because he's spread so thin..." Ricky explained simply, a hint of remorse in his voice. He indicated for her to follow him once again, and he walked over to a desk that had a 'Records' sign hanging above it, and a young witch who was filing her nails glanced up at Ricky in a very bored manner as if she had nothing better to do.

Ricky handed her the file he held, asking her to file it away in the appropriate section. The girl mouthed, "Sure," and went to take care of the file. Ricky turned back to McGonagall, saying, "Unfortunately, I'm afraid that the Ministry is going to be closing in about two hours," he pulled out his wallet and handed McGonagall a few twenties of American Muggle money. "For the taxi waiting outside, please take it. My aunt would want me to, and I really don't want to get chewed out by my cousin." he interjected briefly, sounding very insistent; maybe even the slightest bit desperate on the last bit. It briefly made McGonagall wonder exactly what kind of favors Ricky was paying his cousin back for.

"So, when your business is done, there's a wizard's hotel just across the street," Ricky quickly continued, "so you can go there if you need a place to stay. For security reasons, the Floo Networks are shut off when the Ministry closes (and doesn't open unless there's an emergency) and opens promptly at 6:00 am, so you'll be free to travel then."

McGonagall was thankful she had thought to bring along a few Portkeys when Ricky told her this, although admittedly she still had an air of disapproval, but she also had to admit that the Fates had seemingly aligned to allow the events unfolding before her. Inwardly, she had to smile because it truly seemed as if those Fates were very much determined  _not_  to allow Delores Umbridge to become the next DADA Professor. Even if she disagreed with the methods, who was she to complain when things were working out in the very providential manner the way they were? McGonagall only half-listened as Ricky was saying something more about the New York Magical Ministry and how it operated, with whispered comments on how he didn't exactly agree with some of the policies.

The Deputy Headmistress was led outside to a waiting Taxi, and Ricky opened the door for her to enter. She turned to Ricky, and nodded firmly, "Thank you, Mister Ricky. Have a good rest of your evening."

Ricky waved, and shut the door once she was settled. Her driver was an older, dark-skinned man who greeted her warmly with a genuine smile. "Hello, ma'am," his accent definitely wasn't American, very likely Jamaican by her estimation. "Nice evening out, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite." McGonagall said, with a hint of a smile.

"Where are you headed?" he asked, as soon as she was settled. Since she did not know the area very well, she simply handed the man a slip of paper that had her desired location written on it, while she said, "The shortest route if you would please," McGonagall adjusted her bag. "I'm afraid my time is very valuable at the moment."

"Of course, ma'am," the man said, he punched a few buttons on a small mechanical device in front of him, and he dutifully drove his customer in a peaceful silence. The only sounds that could be heard were songs from the radio that was playing quietly, while some sort of small dancing girl bounced back and forth on the car's dash, and occasionally the car hit a few bumps as it travelled. She observed the passing scenery outside, noticing the changes the city had gone through – even though it was older, it still held that same charm that she had found so fascinating years before. McGonagall decided to just sit back and enjoy the rest of the drive until she reached her destination.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1957_

A young Minerva made her way through the rainy streets of New York, one stormy summer day. She was doing a job for the Ministry of Magic, and it ended up taking her to New York – not that she would complain. This experience resulted in her learning how to deal with international affairs within the wizarding world. Plus, it wasn't such a bad thing having to travel to other countries. But today, she wasn't enjoying herself as much.

The rain seemed to fall harder as Minerva walked, and she could have cursed herself for not thinking of bringing her umbrella. Minerva didn't think it was going to rain today, and the weather had been deceptively warm and clear that day – and obviously, she hadn't been prepared for it. She was  _always_  prepared for Merlin's sake! But apparently, someone at the Ministry felt the need to cast a few weather spells because they thought that the city needed rain.

In spite of the rain, Minerva kept her eye out for anything or anyone suspicious, as she was helping to investigate the rumors of possible rogue wizards in the area. She started to seriously consider transfiguring something to make an umbrella for herself. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see, and a hat could only do so much.

She of course, would have to be cautious and not get caught by Muggle eyes, because she wanted to avoid having to Obliviate someone simply because she wasn't careful. She came upon an alleyway next to a bar, and noticed a few scraps of materials that she could use. Looking left and right, and in front and back of her, she stepped into the alleyway hoping to transfigure an umbrella.

A sigh of relief came to her when she noticed an old, worn-out umbrella carelessly discarded by the bins. All it needed was a simple repair spell, thank Merlin. She had just pulled out her wand, when a voice spoke up,

"Hey, you don't look like you're from around here." A man's voice said.

Minerva quickly hid her wand, but made sure she was still able to use it, she turned casually to face what turned out to be more than one man. Three men (or two men and a boy, seeing as how the latter of the three appeared to be younger than her, being somewhere in his late teens) stood a few feet from her, and Minerva was annoyed with herself that she hadn't heard them.

"Hey, you're all wet!" declared one of the men, and Minerva had to roll her eyes at the obvious. He smirked, as he casually leaned against the side of the building, while leaning in closer to her. Minerva made a face at the stench of stale alcohol on his breath, and tried to turn away from him without taking her eyes off of the goons. "You could come back to my place and dry off."

"Have you ever heard of the Runorattas? We're a part of that family." The boy pointed proudly to himself. "They're making a comeback, you know."

"I've never heard of them." Minerva said stiffly. "Nor do I care."

"Hey, you really aren't from around here!" the first one proclaimed, as if he had made some incredible discovery. "What's that accent?"

"English," she said quickly. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" she felt someone grab her arm, and pull her back.

"Don't be in such a hurry," this was the second man, who currently had an annoying smirk on his face. "You should stay and have some fun with us."

"Yeah," the first man agreed. He looked at Minerva with confusion. "Hey, if you're English, how come you're speaking  _American?"_

"What?" Minerva responded flatly. She was taken aback by the absurdity of the question, so she didn't move right away to make any attempt at escape.

"Answer the man's question." the man holding onto her wrist insisted as he squeezed her arm a bit tighter.

Minerva narrowed her eyes as she raised her wand, and with all three looking between themselves and her with mock smiles on their faces, she started,  _"Ob-"_

Minerva was cut off when a stern voice joined in the conversation. "What do you think you're doing?"

All of them turned to the man who was standing just outside of the alleyway, giving the three a stern look from under his umbrella that actually made Minerva shiver. He struck her as being very terrifying and the type that no one should ever mess with, and she was thankful that she was not the target of the very dangerous glare that the thugs were receiving.

"You really shouldn't be bothering people here – especially a young lady who obviously wants to be left alone – that really is frowned upon."

"None of your business, old man!" the boy sneered, although the man that was questioning them didn't strike Minerva as being all that old.

The one holding onto Minerva scoffed. "This is none of your business!"

"We're part of the Runoratta's!" the second man boasted, as if that would make the stranger leave.

"Then you should know that as a Runoratta, you aren't welcome here." A dangerous glint flashed over his glasses. "I'm only giving you one chance,"

He had one hand in his pocket, and the other held onto his umbrella tightly.

"Fuck off!" the second man pulled out a knife. "I'll show you what happens when-!"

He was cut off and Minerva's eyes widened as the stranger whipped out a wand from his pocket, calmly saying,  _"Piede, inciampare. Corpo, caduta."_

The charging man suddenly tripped on air and went face-first into the ground.

"Oaoww…" a pathetic moan escaped from him.

Seeing that the man was using a wand, Minerva instantly went on high-alert. If this was one of the rogue wizards, Minerva wasn't sure what she could do. Minerva stared wide-eyed at her would-be rescuer. What confused her was the spell that he used, as she had never seen anything like it. Even though she had studied some American versions of magic, and had seen demonstrations of magic from the American wizards, none of it was like what she was seeing now.

The thug holding onto Minerva stared dumbly at his moaning comrade, his brain obviously trying to process what he had just seen.  _"Polso, scarcerare!"_

Minerva watched as the man screamed as his hand let go of her wrist of its own accord, then before the other two could react, the wizard continued calmly,  _"Lecorpi, diventare pesante."_

They fell straight to the ground as if a sudden weight had fallen on top of them as they both were shouting and panicking. "What the hell is this?! I can't move!"

"You will stay away out of both the Martillo and Camorra family's territories from now on." The older man said in a no-nonsense manner, glaring down at the three thugs. "Inform your fellow family members that if you come to this area again, it'll be the last thing any of you ever do. I can promise you that no one will notice when a few nameless thugs disappear."

The trio flinched in fear, and Minerva blinked. She kept a tight hold on her wand, as she believed she was now unwittingly involved with of some sort of spat between Mafia families. Oh, Merlin's beard! How had it come to this? She had actually read some about them before coming to New York, and she knew how violent they could become. And to make things worse, one was a rogue wizard who could rapidly use spells and wasn't above using his magic on Muggles.

The older man bent down so he could look the three in the eyes.  _"Rilasciare il peso. Now, Dimentico!"_

The trio all drew in sharp gasps and went wide-eyed for only a moment, before they slowly stood as if they were in a trance, and stumbled off, swaying back and forth as if they were very much intoxicated and would fall over at any given moment. Minerva turned slowly to look at her rescuer, wand at the ready just in case he attacked, and she was fully prepared to defend, attack and run. Instead, he only smiled at her, causing her to do a slight double-take at his suddenly friendly and soft-spoken demeanor. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Minerva said quickly and obviously he could see how anxious she was. She quickly straightened herself, as she maintained a tight grip on her wand. If he noticed this he didn't show it, nor did he make a move to grab her wand, but she knew that he saw it. He eyed her wand, and Minerva caught a slight hint of suspicion in his expression, which was there for only a second. "Sorry to frighten you…You are a magic user, correct?"

"Yes…" Now, she had a death grip on her wand. Rogue wizards or dark wizards, she certainly wasn't comfortable going up against either of them; especially alone – and especially not if those wizards were in the Mafia. Oh, Merlin, this day was not her day.

"Well, I'm Matthew Smith." He smiled as he now seemed to be studying her.

"Minerva McGonagall. Pleasure," Minerva said, extending her hand out of force of habit. Matthew smiled warmly, seemingly more relaxed than when he first introduced himself. He pocketed his wand, and accepted the handshake. Minerva had some sort of odd sensation that she could trust him, although she wasn't sure why. A part of her worried that he was somehow using a spell to trick her into trusting him.

"Actually," he chuckled almost uncomfortably, but he looked relieved. "My name is Maiza Avaro. I just wanted to make sure who you were. Come on in and dry off," he gestured to the bar they were standing outside of. "It's terrible out here and you might catch cold."

"I-I probably shouldn't," Minerva said, questions reeling through her mind, wondering just what he meant by 'wanting to make sure who she was'. Matt-no, Maiza only smiled again, and said, "That's understandable, but I just have a few things I want to ask you. It would only take a few minutes of your time." He gestured for her to walk with him under his umbrella. "If you would, please."

Minerva pocketed her wand, but made sure she could get to it easily and somewhat stiffly but politely said, "Alright…" and joined him under the umbrella. Maiza only nodded, with that curious smile on his face, and guided Minerva to the door. For the next few feet as she walked with him, she was now wondering if it was such a good idea to go with him in the first place. He was obviously a powerful wizard, after that little display in the alleyway, plus he had strange magic. But if she could learn anything to report back to the American Ministry, then it may well be worth the risk.

A large sign; paint faded but still in good condition, indicated that the name of the bar was  _Destino._ The entrance to the bar displayed a  _closed_  sign; even so, Maiza opened the door to the bar and let her go in first. The atmosphere was slightly hazy due to the combination of cigar and cigarette smoke.

Minerva froze in place when she saw that there were ten more men in the bar, spread out in various areas of the room.

Two men, one rather round and another very skinny sitting on backless stools at the bar turned in their seats and greeted Maiza happily. Upon seeing Minerva, they chuckled and blushed, whispering to each other at first, before introducing themselves.

"I'm Randy, this here is Pecho – but you can ignore him." the skinny man grinned sheepishly.

"Hey!" Pecho protested, giving Randy an annoyed shove, and Randy only laughed in response.

Another man behind the bar chuckled at the two before turning to Maiza and Minerva with a smile. "Hey there, Maiza. Ma'am. Everything okay? I thought I sensed some magic being cast."

Minerva noticed that he was holding a wand, apparently using it to clean the bar and do other small tasks around the place. She then began to wonder if this was the place where the rogue wizards gathered, and now she was surrounded by eleven of them. She now wanted to kick herself for even thinking this would be a good idea in the first place.

"It was nothing, Allen," Maiza waved a hand, "Just some Runoratta…runts, I guess you could say, bothering this young lady."

"Did you take care of them?" a thin man sitting at one of the tables with two other men asked nonchalantly as he lit a cigarette with the tip of his wand.

One of the other men sitting at the table had a scowl that made Minerva shift uncomfortably on her feet. Especially when his hard gaze fell on her as he studied her. Minerva quickly glanced around the bar, trying to act casual; and  _not_  like she was thinking of strategies on how she could escape if need be. She noticed the wand resting on the table by his drink and ashtray.

"I just did a memory spell on them and sent them on their way," Maiza said with a light shrug. "No need to make things messy when it isn't necessary."

"Those damn, rotten, Runoratta-wannabe-punks cause more trouble than they're worth," the larger of the three men huffed. He fingered his own wand as he made it roll back and forth on the table between his thick fingers. "I wish I could run into a few of 'em now and then."

"As Maiza said, Berga," the first man said with a smile that made Minerva now start judging whether or not she could get out the door fast enough before they even realized she was gone. "No need to cause any violence or draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves. Or start a war that'll cause more problems than it'll solve."

The scowling man gave the large 'Berga' a glance as he dealt the cards. Berga sighed as he sent a somewhat annoyed glare in return. But he didn't argue with the man who had initially spoke.

"Keith's right; if you run into a Runoratta, just leave them be unless they're someplace they aren't welcome. Then you can use whatever tactics you please to make sure they stay away."

The first man tapped his cigarette on the ashtray, and the other men who loitered in the bar all muttered some kind of agreement. Meanwhile, the aforementioned 'Keith' had once again turned his harsh gaze upon Minerva. His eyes narrowed as if he were trying to figure out whether or not she posed some kind of threat. Minerva managed a weak smile.

The man with the off-putting grin had his full attention on Minerva. "Who might you be?" He glanced at Maiza, since he had been the one to bring her into the bar. Although his question was directed at her, Maiza answered for her as he removed his coat, "Luck, this here is Minerva; she's also a magic user."

It was then everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Minerva, causing her to feel like, as the Muggle phrase aptly put it, "a deer in the headlights."

"Is she like us?" Luck asked warily, watching her with calculating eyes.

"No," Maiza replied. "But she does have a wand."

"I see." Luck said as he continued focusing on Minerva. "Would you like some dry clothes, or do you have a spell that you can use? If so, I would like to see you perform it."

Minerva slowly nodded her head, and hesitantly pulled out her wand. She saw that all eyes were on her, each very curious about what she was going to do. Ready to defend against the men if any of them moved, she cast a spell that would dry her off. "It's fine… _Et Siccabit!"_

The tip of her wand glowed, and the spell circled around her in a soft, yellow-white light. Instantly, her clothes became dry.

A few moments of silence passed; disbelief and wonder seemed to be on the Mafia wizards' side, while nervousness was on Minerva's.

"She really  _is_ a magic user!" Pecho exclaimed excitedly, breaking the silence. His eyes were wide as saucers.

"How did you do that? Do you know any more?" Randy asked, looking like a child on Christmas morning.

"Can you show us more?" Allen looked hopeful. "Well, not right  _now…_ but, later?"

Minerva looked questioningly from them to Maiza. She studied everyone else in the room. All of them were looking at her excitedly and were now whispering, or were looking at her with great interest and from what she could make out; they were  _very_  impressed with what they had seen. Then a thought occurred to her: they were saying  _'magic user',_  not  _'witch'_  or  _'wizard'._  Even those in the American Ministry referred to themselves as wizards or witches respectively. These men were acting as if her being a witch was something unheard of; an anomaly…almost as if…they had  _no idea_  that other people besides themselves could perform magic.

"Why are you so surprised to see someone use magic when you can use it yourselves?" Minerva asked, eyes darting from the three men at the table to Maiza.

"That's what I want to talk to you about, Ms. Minerva. Please, have a seat." Maiza directed her to the table with the three men, and as she sat down Minerva tried not to wrinkle her nose at the heavy smell of cigars wafting off of two of the men.

"Ms. Minerva, this is Keith, Berga, and Luck Gandor." Maiza motioned to each in turn. "Gentleman, this is Minerva McGonagall."

Minerva nodded, still unsure. "Pleasure,"

"Would you like anything to drink?" Luck asked, and Minerva studied his features for only a moment before replying, "Some hot tea would be nice, actually…with cream and sugar if you don't mind."

Allen brought the desired tea along with generous amounts of cream and sugar.

"Let me know if you need anything else," Allen said with quite a bit of enthusiasm that he was doing a very poor job of maintaining.

Minerva only nodded as she took more sugar than she usually did, feeling like she was going to need it.

"So," Luck began, as he smiled calmly at her. "Just how did it come to be that you could perform magic?"

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1995_

The taxi came to a stop in front of a bar called  _Destino_ , and the driver gave it an appraising look. He took one more look at his small machine, and asked, "This is the right place?" there was a slight tone of worry in his voice. Obviously, this was not a place women her age would often mingle. "There tends to be some troublemakers here…"

McGonagall only smiled, and handed the man a few of the dollar bills that had been given to her curtesy of Ricky. "It's quite alright. I know the owner."

The cab driver seemed slightly taken aback at how much of a tip she was giving him (or perhaps it was that a woman of her advanced age knew the owner of a bar) but McGonagall held up a firm hand, showing she would not take back any of her money if he questioned her. "I asked to be here as soon as possible, and you delivered. And it  _is_ rather late. Thank you, and have a good evening."

With that, McGonagall departed from the taxi and made her way into the bar that somehow still looked very much the same when she had seen it all those years ago, yet it had updated its décor to fit modern Muggle tastes. The sign indicating the name of the bar had been updated to a classy-looking black sign with purple lettering, and hundreds of white lights surrounded the frame.

Inside, the bar was rather busy, filled with people who were enjoying the nightlife that New York had to offer. She was greeted politely by a few servers, and she nodded in response. McGonagall walked right up to the bar, and noticed Allen serving a few girls some sort of fancy alcoholic drinks. Allen didn't notice her at first when he turned around, but as soon as his eyes fell on her a wide grin spread across his face. McGonagall couldn't help but return that infectious grin the man had.

"Minerva!" Allen shouted, barely heard just above the noises of the crowd and the music.

He easily hopped over the bar and pulled her into a quick hug, before motioning to his fellow bartender and telling her that he would be right back. She looked from Allen to McGonagall, giving the older woman a quizzical look, and nodded. Allen then guided McGonagall behind the bar where thankfully the music was now muffled and the older witch could finally hear herself think.

"What are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining, it's great to see you again." Allen grinned.

"I'm here to see Maiza," McGonagall replied. "Something's come up, and I was hoping he would be able to help out."

"Ah, well," Allen nodded, and motioned for her to follow him. "He's upstairs. You're lucky that Maiza's here. This is usually the night he's working elsewhere."

McGonagall was slightly surprised at that.

"I hope everything's alright?" Allen held open another door for her to go through which led to a set of offices.

"I hope it will be, Allen." McGonagall sighed. "There's just unrest happening in the Magical community back home, right now…"

Allen made a face of understanding accompanied by a slight grimace. "Oh… _that."_

He knocked on one of the office doors, saying, "Maiza, it's Allen. Some magic user is here to see you." Allen sent McGonagall a wink. "She said it's really important,"

"Let her in," Maiza's kind voice responded.

Allen gave McGonagall a comforting pat on the shoulder as he opened the door for her to enter, and he closed it behind her once she was inside. At the moment, McGonagall was looking at the back of Maiza's chair, as he was currently doing one thing or another. "Sorry…Just one moment…" Maiza was muttering, "I'll be right there…  _Stampante, s_ _iparazione!"_ There was a flash of light, and he sighed in triumph at his success. "There, that's fixed."

"It's me, Maiza." McGonagall started, with that rare smile gracing her lips.

Suddenly, Maiza stood and turned around to face her with a look that obviously was questioning why she didn't make herself known sooner. A smile that very few would ever see in their lifetime if at all presented itself on McGonagall's face. Maiza still looked the same; just like he had when she met him for the first time many years ago and again years later. The only differences were that he had new glasses and a modern business suit. He was still the same man from a long time ago.

"Minerva?" He straightened his glasses as he looked her up and down.

"Please don't tell me your old age is catching up with you," Minerva quipped.

Maiza crossed the office and pulled her into a hug while he laughed. "Not yet," he gave her a look and good-humoredly smirked like a playboy. "I must say, Minerva, you've certainly gotten better with age."

"Oh, stop it." She scolded, as she gave him a light slap on the arm, to which he responded with a light chuckle.

"I'm serious, I'm glad to see that you're doing well."

"Yes, and I'm glad that you're doing as well as ever."

"How about I treat you to a late dinner?" Maiza offered as he put on his jacket. "The restaurant is actually a few blocks down. It's very likely well past dinnertime in the U.K. After we catch up with the entire goings on in between when we last saw each other, you can tell me why you traveled halfway around the world just to see little old me."

She had been so focused on where she needed to go that McGonagall finally realized how famished she actually felt. "That would be splendid."

McGonagall insisted on walking the few blocks to the restaurant, and saw that it was enchanted for wizards and witches to come in and dine at their leisure, while it appeared to be closed at night to Muggles. There were already a few witches and wizards in the restaurant, but there was little to no acknowledgement from them, save a pretty young woman with light hair who only smiled when she saw Maiza and gave a brief wave of her hand which he returned.

A girl of Asian descent approached them, and asked how they were doing, with the girl treating Maiza very much like one would a father. Maiza introduced her. "Wu, this is Minerva McGonagall. Minerva, this is Wu."

"Oh, I've heard about you!" Wu said happily, slightly bouncing on the balls of her feet before reaching out to shake Minerva's hand. McGonagall only gave a small smile while mentally disapproving of the way the well-endowed girl's features bounced with her. "A pleasure,"

Wu led them to a table and then asked, "So, what it'll be?"

"Herbal tea for me please, with sugar and lemon." McGonagall replied in her practical manner as she looked over the menu.

"And I'll just have water," Maiza said.

Wu nodded, and pulled out a wand that did not look like the traditional ones McGonagall was used to seeing; it seemed to be made out of more than just wood, and had various symbols carved into it. She closed her eyes in concentration for a moment, and then said,  _"Appaiono! Hot tisane e acqua e ghiaccio e zucchero e limone!"_

With a slight wave and a flick of her wrist, Wu made the requested items appear. She smiled and said chirpily, "Just tap the menu twice with your wand when you're ready to order, m'kay?"

McGonagall glanced at Wu briefly. "That was some excellent wand work."

"Thanks!" Wu blushed. "Maiza and Firo taught me everything I know!"

With that, she went back and forth between the other customers to see if they needed anything, and Maiza and McGonagall looked for something to order. After finding something that she wanted, Maiza pulled out his own wand and gave the menu two quick taps, and the words from their selected choices glowed briefly in a golden light before going out. About ten minutes later, their requested food appeared on the table, much like how the food would appear in the Great Hall.

As the two ate, Minerva shared with Maiza what had gone on in her life since she last saw him, although there were things she didn't feel like sharing, such as Dougal McGregor. There was no need to be talking about him. Maiza told her about his "Family", and how things were going within their magical community. The New York American Ministry appreciated having a restaurant such as this one within their community, although none of the wizards questioned who owned the place – they merely knew it was there, but didn't acknowledge the blatantly obvious.

Even so, people had started frequenting the place more within the last few decades. The only real complaint many of the witches and wizards had was the lack of any sort of Floo Network and the odd inability to Apparate within a certain distance of the restaurant. The Gandors seemed to think it was better safe than sorry, and since they weren't wizards in the traditional sense, and were a powerful and influential Mafia Family, they didn't want any unnecessary trouble presenting itself if it could be prevented. McGonagall learned that there were numerous Charms on anything the Families owned that could only be bypassed if certain people informed the one who caught in the Disillusionment Charm.

Finally, they got to the point in the conversation that McGonagall had come to New York for. McGonagall sat straight and looked very firm as she sighed.

"Maiza…you know who He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is,  _what_  he is?"

"Only in rumors," Maiza muttered. "He's a Dark Wizard, and the worst of the worst from what I've gathered. Even before the events of last year, people were afraid to say his name…people here either talk about him in whispers or they say that it's of no concern to the American Ministry – some even flat-out deny that he's returned at all. That's it's some kind of ploy set up by the British Ministry." Maiza looked somewhat annoyed as he added,  _"Please_  don't get me started on the rumors I've been hearing from  _that_  claim."

There was a hint of begging in Maiza's tone. She nodded in understanding. "So, I can assume that you've also heard about Harry Potter, and how he was there when… _he…"_  she slightly shivered internally at the thought out of sympathy for her students, "came back. It seemed at the time Minister Fudge was going along with Mr. Potter and Professor Dumbledore's insistence that he had in fact returned, but he has recently renounced those claims and now seems to be fully under the impression that Professor Dumbledore is trying to discredit and overthrow him!"

McGonagall shook her head, and Maiza gave her an incredulous look.

"Oh, yes, I know. I had the exact same thought," She sipped her tea.

"In this Minister Fudge's defense, I  _can_  see where he's coming from, but his reasoning is…flawed." Maiza put a hand to his chin in thought. He was definitely thinking there was more behind the wizarding British Minister's suspicions then simply believing that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was trying to make a fool out of him.

"There's quite a bit more to this, unfortunately," McGonagall replied gravely. "You see, the Ministry has an agreement with Hogwarts that if Professor Dumbledore can't find a professor for a certain subject when the new term begins, then they are free to appoint one," it was here McGonagall's sheer displeasure of the idea presented itself in both her voice and her expression. "We're short a Professor in Defense against the Dark Arts department, and now the Minister wants to appoint Delores Umbridge, of all people! She is an awful woman – and do forgive me for saying so! Neither Professor Dumbledore nor I trust her in the slightest bit; especially with the students involved."

McGonagall looked at Maiza hopefully. "So, what I was wondering was this; if it would be possible for you to come and teach at Hogwarts? It would only be for the term." Maiza looked slightly taken aback, but he said nothing and let McGonagall continue. "I know that you are exceptionally talented in this area; and that you would be more than capable of teaching the students. In times as dark as these, with You-Know-Who active, it is of vital importance that the students have some idea of how to defend themselves."

McGonagall momentarily glanced down at the table ran her thumb along the brim of her almost-empty teacup. She was a woman of pride and honor, and here she was essentially begging for help; but only because she was desperate. Oh, Merlin. Maiza could both see and hear it. He knew her well enough that she wouldn't be asking for help if she felt she had another choice.

"Maiza," she looked up at him. "Would you consider taking the DADA position?"

Maiza definitely had been given plenty of information to think about. He looked quite serious as he wasn't smiling and he furrowed his brows for a moment before he looked at McGonagall regretfully. . "Unfortunately, I can't…" he shook his head. "I have too much on my plate here as it is, what with managing the various businesses, bookkeeping and keeping everyone and their magic in check…But-" the hint of an amused smile was on the corners of his lips. McGonagall was reminded of Dumbledore as she saw the smile.

Maiza was interrupted when a boisterous shout could be heard. A man ran over to where they were sitting, followed closely by a woman who equally shared his excitement. The couple both carried very heavy looking bags which they dropped to the floor upon reaching their table. McGonagall winced as whatever was in those bags sounded as if it broke upon contact with the hardwood floor. Maiza rose and he and the couple hugged, while the man gave Maiza a few slaps on his back.

"I ran into them outside," another young man spoke up. He had his arm around the shoulders of a red-haired girl, who held the hand of a young boy who could have been no older than nine or ten. McGonagall eyed the young boy curiously. He  _looked_  young, but his eyes showed a certain aptitude well beyond his years.

"Isaac, Miria what brings you two here?" Maiza questioned with his usual smile.

"Why, Maiza my good man," Isaac began as he stood up straight with one hand behind his back and the other pointed with his index finger as if he were about to make a very valid argument of sorts, while Miria mirrored Isaac in both stance and speech, echoing,

"My good man!"

"Museums, of course!"

("Of course!")

"You see," Isaac continued, "Too many people are visiting everything  _besides_  the museums, what with all the movie theaters around,"

("Too many movie theaters!")

"Education of the past has fallen to the wayside!" Miria cried, while Isaac looked distraught.

"How are people  _ever_  going to learn from the mistakes of our ancestors if all they ever do is  _watch_   _movies?!"_  Isaac demanded.

"So, we've come up with a plan to  _make_  people  _want_  to go to the museums!" Miria grinned.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what that would be…" Maiza said flatly.

Isaac grinned as he reached into one of the bags he was carrying, and pulled out a reel of some sort, proudly displaying it for them to see, while Miria did the same with one of the bags she had been carrying. Minerva read  _The Lion King_  on the reel Isaac was holding, while the one Miria held read  _Forrest Gump_ before they stuffed the reels back into their bags.

"You see, if there are no movies for people to see in the theaters, then they will want to go to the museums in herds!"

("In herds!")

"It's ingenious!"

"You're so  _smart,_ Isaac!"

"Of course I am, Miria my dear."

McGonagall stared open mouthed at the pair, while they both looked very pleased with themselves, and her shock quickly turned to disapproval as her mouth formed a thin line. Maiza sighed tiredly, while the other couple and the young boy were hiding their laughter behind their hands.

Maiza motioned to the witch, "Isaac, Miria, this is Minerva McGonagall, an old friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you!" Isaac and Miria chorused enthusiastically, and McGonagall couldn't help but be reminded of a certain set of red-headed twins who were just as in sync with each other as this odd couple was, if not more so.

"If you're here you must be a magic user too!" Miria said happily.

"Yes, I am." McGonagall said, nodding.

"How wonderful!" Isaac said dramatically. "And if you're a friend of Maiza's, then you're a friend of ours!"

"That's right!"

"If you ever want or need anything, just ask old Isaac!" Isaac pointed to himself as he gave wide toothy grin to McGonagall.

"Oh, Isaac you're so kind!" Miria beamed.

"You're very lucky, you know!" Miria grasped McGonagall's hands with her own, and looked into her eyes. "If you're friends with Isaac, then you'll have a friend for life!"

"Well, Minerva, it was very nice to meet you. Miria my dear, I'm afraid we have to go." Isaac said solemnly. "We have to fill our bellies before we set out again."

"Alright, Isaac," Miria smiled. "Take good care of yourselves! Good bye!"

Then, the couple grabbed their loot and waved goodbye, walking over to the bar where there was more enthusiastic greetings between them and Wu. Maiza gave the couple a long-suffering glance, sighing once more. The other young man chuckled as he said, "You'd think they're going away for a century, acting the way they do."

"Ah, Firo, just the man I wanted to see," Maiza was back to his normal self as he sat down. "Please, join us."

Firo, the woman and the boy sat down at the table, all three of them giving questioning looks between McGonagall and Maiza.

"Minerva, this is Firo Prochainezo, his wife Ennis, and her brother, Czeslaw Meyer." Maiza introduced them.

"Hello, ma'am," Firo said as he tipped his fedora.

"It's very nice to meet you," Ennis said, with a slight bow of her head.

"Hello…" Czeslaw said with a small smile.

"It's very nice to meet you as well." McGonagall said. She then turned to Maiza. "I must apologize for rushing you like this, Maiza," she sighed, the weight and length of her trip finally catching up to her (and that Isaac and Miria couple certainly managed to suck up what little energy she had remaining as well.) "But, may I ask, just what were you going to say before we were…greeted so enthusiastically by your friends?"

Maiza's smile returned. "Unfortunately, I can't help you by taking the teaching position at the school. But that doesn't mean I won't offer my help."

Maiza then glanced at Firo, who instantly looked nervous and slightly suspicious at the expression he was receiving from the older man. "Firo, how would you feel about teaching witches and wizards in Scotland on how to defend themselves against the Dark Arts?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minerva has Immortal mobster connections?! The British Ministry doesn't stand a chance!
> 
> oOo***oOo
> 
> Thanks again for reading! About the spells the Immortals use…I wanted their magic to be unique compared to other witches/wizards. I would have used Latin, but I guess you could say that I couldn't really feel the Latin in terms of their magic – so I tried Italian, and it just clicked (yay). If translations are inaccurate, I do apologize as I'm relying on Google translate for this.
> 
> ***oOo***oOo***
> 
> Maiza's Spells –
> 
> Piede, inciampare. Corpo, caduta – Foot, stumble. Body, fall
> 
> Polso,scarcerare – Wrist, release
> 
> Lecorpi,diventare pesante – The bodies, become heavy
> 
> Il peso –The weight.
> 
> Dimentico – Forgetful
> 
> Stampante,Siparazione – Printer, Repair
> 
> Rilasciare il peso – Release the weight
> 
> Wu's spell –
> 
> Appaiono ! Hot tisane e acqua e ghiaccio e zucchero e limone - Appear! Hot herbal tea and sugar and lemon and ice water
> 
> Minerva's spell –
> 
> Et Siccabit – Become Dry


	3. In Which Firo Receives his Informal yet Official Interview for the Position at Hogwarts and the British Minister of Magic Receives Most Unpleasant News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva talks to Firo about taking the teaching position at Hogwarts, and really, the Americans are tired of hearing about Voldemort. Good thing Firo is willing to help out, and Minerva gets some reprieve. But the fact that some American is showing up is a threat to every puritan wizard's ideals - and Delores Umbridge intends to exploit it. 
> 
> Meanwhile, in 1957, Minerva talks to a very curious group of odd wizards; everything about them is just a little off, and it's not just because they're Mafia. Oh, sweet Merlin, what has she gotten herself into?!

_1995_

_Maiza's smile returned. "Unfortunately, I can't help you by taking the teaching position at the school. But that doesn't mean I won't offer my help."_

_Maiza then glanced at Firo, who instantly looked nervous and slightly suspicious at the expression he was receiving from the older man. "Firo, how would you feel about teaching witches and wizards in Scotland on how to defend themselves against the Dark Arts?"_

"Huh?" Firo responded incredulously. He glanced from Maiza to McGonagall, as he was trying to figure out what in the world either of them could be thinking. Maiza had an amused smile on his face, seeming to enjoy the surprise and discomfort on Firo's part, and Firo knew that Maiza fully expected him to do as he asked. Although Firo only knew McGonagall in all of what had to be the span of four minutes, she seemed to have a slight hint of hopefulness on her stern features as she studied him.

Wait…a thought occurred to Firo. "You're Minerva McGonagall!" his mind suddenly backpedaled. "Maiza told me about you!" The older man certainly had told him about a young natural-born magic user he had met a few decades ago, his mind finally connecting the dots as to where he knew the name. Then, Firo's mind flipped back to Maiza's question. "Wait, you're asking  _me_ to be a  _teacher_  in  _Scotland?"_

Now, that Minerva woman was looking at him with a hint of amusement on her features, and Maiza wore a smile that confirmed his enjoyment at Firo's expense.

Firo narrowed his eyes for a moment, and sighed heavily. Time to get down to the reason Maiza would ask  _him_  of all people to do such a thing as  _teaching_  natural-born magic users in another country. Clearing his throat, he looked to Maiza, and simply asked, "Why?" with obvious trepidation in his voice.

It wasn't that Firo was uneducated that gave him any unwillingness to do as he was asked; but rather the fact that he hardly had any experience teaching children in an academic setting. Firo  _had_  taught children before, but that was things like hand-to-hand combat, how to wield a knife, along with how to have a steady hand when aiming a gun.

"I mean, are you sure you want… _me?"_  Firo scratched the back of his head, as images of knocking teeth out of a kid's skull because he dropped his guard and breaking another's nose flashed in his mind, so he emphasized, "I mean, I've  _taught_ kids how to defend themselves, but… _none_  of that involved  _wands."_  He paused. "These  _are_  kids we're talking about, right?"

"Yes, and that all depends on if you're qualified," the Minerva woman said with a nod. "Surely, if Maiza is recommending you, that must be the case. I suppose you could count this as an informal interview, if in fact you decide to accept the job."

"Of course, you're qualified," Maiza responded, both telling Firo and answering McGonagall. "You've helped the others develop and control their magic, and if you managed to help even the most challenging students that we've had, then most certainly you can help the next generation of natural-born magic users develop their skills."

Firo only nodded in response. When the likes of Randy, Pecho, Isaac and Miria had been given their wands, they either didn't realize or didn't understand that magic was something a person had to be careful wielding; it could be like a double-edged sword if they were careless.

In one instance, Randy and Pecho unwittingly burned down an abandoned warehouse when attempting to practice elemental spells, and thankfully no one had been injured. In Isaac and Miria's case, the two were so energetic and in-tune with each other, that they ended up triggering magical events to occur around them. The eccentric pair of thieves caused certain objects within their vicinity to float or crack, unfortunately it became even more of a problem when they panicked.

Since the two had 'pinky-promised' Maiza that they wouldn't reveal their magic to anyone who didn't have a wand, their panicking only caused the events to escalate into objects breaking and in some cases, even exploding. Because of this, many if not all of the superstitious residents of New York City believed that their places of residence and employment were infested with vengeful spirits. Firo was also pretty sure that more than a few people quit drinking and others converted to some kind of religion to prevent the bizarre run of bad luck from coming upon them.

A few of the other members of the Family needed practical lessons in spell casting and control, as the Immortals' particular form of magic could be rather difficult. Those who were having trouble with their magic came to Maiza, and with the help from the likes of Firo, Ennis and Czes, the others were able to get a solid comprehension of their magic. They were also taught Memory Alteration spells, to ensure that no one outside of the Immortals themselves would be sharing the fact that they knew magic existed.

Firo studied the older witch and Maiza for a moment before giving another sigh.

"I'm not  _unwilling,"_  Firo said, seriously. "But what exactly is this about?"

"Do you know who You-Know-Who is?" McGonagall began once again, but she paused in curiosity as Firo, Ennis, and Czes all visibly flinched in obvious discomfort.

" _Please_  tell me we  _aren't_ discussing  _him,"_  Firo said with disdain.

"Not so loud, one of  _them_  might hear you, Firo." Czes chided surreptitiously, even though Firo rolled his eyes in response.

"You can't say you aren't tired of it either, Czes." Firo replied with a hissed whisper.

"Please… Firo, Brother, do not draw attention to yourselves," Ennis placed a hand on Firo's own, and a hand on Czes' shoulder. "I must apologize for them, and for myself." Ennis looked at her husband and then to her adoptive brother, before looking to McGonagall. "You see…discussing this  _Dark Lord,"_  here Ennis whispered before going back into her normal tone of voice, "has caused quite a bit of conflict…between us and," she gave a subtle nod of her head to a group of wizards sitting at a corner booth, "… _them."_

"That's the understatement of the century," Firo looked at McGonagall with all seriousness. "I don't know how it is in Europe, but here… _ugh._  Be thankful no one here heard you say that  _fucking name."_

Firo ignored the tight-lipped disapproval McGonagall gave at the curse word, and proceeded to make sure that McGonagall knew exactly why Voldemort made Maiza and the other Immortals so uncomfortable.

"You see, people here are divided into numerous camps," Firo explained. "You have the people who believe the Voldy-guy is back, yet are divided on how to handle it." He counted on his fingers, "It either doesn't concern America, or they think the British Ministry could be handling this better, or they think that we should be concerned… and don't get me started on the conspiracy theories some of them are spitting out. There's  _more_  where that came from."

Clear disdain was on Firo's features as he continued in his rant. "Then, you have the people who don't believe he's back, and they are divided  _yet again._  They believe the Ministry is incompetent in how they're handling this whole thing, and should settle once and for all that he  _isn't_ back. Then there's the theory that the British Ministry is plotting something behind the scenes, along with if the Tri-Wizard Tournament had happened here in America, there wouldn't have been any casualties…it goes on and on!"

Firo threw his hands up in the air in frustration. Admittedly, he was taking out some of his frustrations on McGonagall, in the sense that he finally had a magic user who would finally know exactly what their country was putting him and his friends through. Maiza pointedly gave Firo a frown, showing he didn't exactly appreciate McGonagall being the recipient of the rant, and Firo returned a somewhat sheepish look, and scratched the back of his head. Even so, Firo knew that Maiza could understand his frustrations.

"I had an older gentleman yell at me when he asked me what my opinion was on whether this Dark Lord was back," Ennis said solemnly. "When I answered in the affirmative, he…well, he had some very imaginative and insightful language for me that I will not be repeating any time soon."

It had been very fortunate for that particular wizard that Firo hadn't been present to hear him call his lovely Ennis such awful names; otherwise the old wizard would have been collecting his teeth off of the floor. Firo scoffed at the idiocy and the rudeness of the wizard he only had knowledge of through being told about by Ennis.

"A few wizards who were having a rather vocal discussion blatantly asked me what my family believed, and I simply told them that we believed in his return." Czes explained in a straight-forward manner. "That comment unfortunately, resulted in an argument that went along the lines of 'see, even the youngest of our generation believes in his return' which escalated from 'they're brainwashing the children', to trivial name-calling, to an actual physical altercation. Fortunately, the wards here knocked them out as soon as it became physical. Those wizards are idiots, incompetent ones at that."

Firo noticed that McGonagall was eyeing them with obvious sympathy and understanding. He couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, although he was sure not to show it.

"I'm sorry to hear all of that…" she sighed. Firo was silently thankful for McGonagall's apology, although after hearing it he now regretted to some extent taking out his frustrations on her for something she had no control over. It wasn't her fault that the British Ministry and the natural-born magic users were disagreeing with each other over this whole mess.

"People back home are clearly divided into one of two categories; You-Know-Who is either back or he isn't, while others simply don't know where to stand. I knew politics could be a big deal in America, but I didn't realize to what extent."

Firo knew that many people were scared to speak that Voldy-guy's name due to some superstitious fear, which in his personal opinion was ridiculous. But he wouldn't say that to McGonagall's face anytime soon. Meanwhile, the Immortals simply didn't say the bastard's name due to the headaches it caused. Berga had come very close to outright punching the wizards who insisted on arguing, no matter which side of the argument they were on. The only reason Berga wouldn't punch them was because it would look bad if business owners went around sending their clientele to the hospital. Even Luck, of all people reached the end of his rope and very nearly cast some sort of ward that would cause people to forget what they were saying if they said keywords like 'Voldemort', 'Dark Lord', 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. The only reason he hadn't, was because even though all of it was entirely headache-inducing, the gossip allowed them to have access to the goings-on of the magical community that they were just outside of.

Firo played with the brim of his hat. "While things are uptight here, I can't imagine what things are like at the source of this whole thing. It must really be difficult."

It was his way of apologizing to McGonagall for venting.

"If I may ask, Mr. Prochainezo," Firo looked from his hat to McGonagall, who seemed to be studying him again. "Why do  _you_  think You-Know-Who is back?"

"People just don't drop dead," Firo shrugged, thinking of that boy who had been in all the wizarding newspapers last year, Cedric Diggory. "I mean, it  _can_ happen, but even if you say, 'it was a tragic accident' it's just too…" Firo thought for a moment. "Circumstantial. There're too many factors to consider, given that the kid was competing in that adrenaline rush of a tournament."

Firo had read a few stories of unquestionably healthy people suddenly dropping dead from things you'd expect of a couch potato. But surely the magic users had health evaluations that could catch and fix that sort of thing? Especially, if a person was going to compete in a thing like the Tri-Wizard Tournament – they'd make sure that people were healthy enough to compete, wouldn't they? Not that it was any of his concern, but it just seemed like common sense.

"A healthy seventeen-year-old kid suddenly drops dead and everyone just  _assumes_  it was an accident?" Firo scoffed. "You either have to be an idiot, or you just follow along blindly with what you want to hear if you believe in that bullshit story."

McGonagall had an odd expression on her face. Was that relief or maybe sadness? The old witch was difficult for Firo to read at times. But one thing was clear: she made a face as soon as he said a certain curse word.

"I must say you are in the minority with that opinion, unfortunately." she sighed, and the look disappeared, if only for a moment. McGonagall shook her head in obvious disapproval of the fact that those who shared her belief about Voldy-guy having returned were getting the short end of the stick, and it just seemed to be getting shorter.

After one last disapproving shake of her head and treating herself to a refill of her tea, McGonagall went straight back to business discussing exactly why she had initially come to Maiza; informing Firo about the situation at Hogwarts and the Ministry's attempts at what she believed would be sabotage. Her concern for her students was clear; much like how a parent would be. Firo, Ennis and Czes all listened intently, and once McGonagall was through with her explanations for a second time around, a grim silence hung over them.

"It really does seem like you've been backed into a corner," Firo said sympathetically. No wonder why McGonagall would go so far as to come to an entirely different country to ask Maiza for help. The poor woman was desperate. Firo smirked. This would be his chance to stick it to the British Ministry for making their lives hell for the past year.

"So, first of all," Firo's smirk grew. "What exactly does the job entail? Second; can my wife and her little brother come with me?"

McGonagall noticeably looked relieved, and a small smile showed on the corners of her lips.

"Well, you certainly don't have to kill the students or make them want to drop out," Maiza said in good humor as he laced his fingers and leaned onto the table with his elbows. Firo heard McGonagall let out a slight gasp that made him wonder if she was getting second thoughts about asking a branch of the New York mob to help teach a magical defense class of impressionable children. "You just have to show them spells on how to defend themselves from enemies," Maiza continued, now with a serious tone, "and from what I understand the only thing you can't teach them are…certain curses and other forbidden spells."

Firo had only read about those curses, and honestly he found them rather abhorrent. He hated the idea of forcing someone against their will to do something, like Ennis' father… Czes had been subject to torture from someone he had trusted. And while Firo didn't really mind killing in self-defense or protecting those he cared about, the fact that a magic user had the potential to kill someone with nothing more than a spoken word…memories of finding twisted pleasure as "he" took the life of a terrified young man who was begging not to die, yet with a word and a flick his wand the man dropped dead and looked at him with those dead, empty eyes…Firo shook his head and quickly suppressed the images. No. Those were not  _his_  memories.  _That_  was  _not_  who  _Firo Prochainezo_ is.

Ennis sensed something was bothering Firo, and she looked at him with concern but Firo only smiled – well, more like grimaced. But he only mouthed his reassurance with,  _"It's fine."_

He knew that McGonagall noticed, because she looked at him questioningly. But since Firo or no one else seemed to be concerned outright, she simply continued as she nodded in hopeful agreement. "You've already educated people how to wield their magic, and although our forms of magic are different, you should still be able to train the students in everything they need to know." McGonagall glanced at Ennis and Czes, adding, "And yes, your wife and her brother are more than welcome; we can easily accommodate them."

Firo looked over at the pair sitting next to him and grinned, he was overjoyed at McGonagall's response and he didn't mind showing it. Ennis and Czes smiled back at him, obviously, they were looking forward to this venture as well.

The Deputy Headmistress went straight back into business within seconds, as she began to explain to Firo exactly what his job would entail. She also asked him questions about whether or not he could fulfill those particular tasks, and Firo would answer to the best of his ability. Students would be subjected to loads of homework that involved reading and writing, along with practical applications of everything they learned. On top of that, there was some kind of huge, career-determining tests called O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s for the fifth and seventh-year students, so it was going to be a chaotic time on top of everything else that was going on.

Unfortunately for the fifth and seventh-year students, along with the entire student body for that matter, Firo Prochainezo wasn't the type to go easy on them just because they were first-years or were dealing with the mountain of stress that was rigorous testing. Firo knew firsthand what the world had to offer, and it didn't care if a person was a little kid or an adult who lived a full life. The world could be cruel, and while at Hogwarts, he could make damn sure the kids who came into his class would come out ready to face whatever was thrown at them.

In the end, McGonagall seemed to be very satisfied with everything Firo had told her, and with Maiza recommending Firo for the defense position, her decision had likely already been made from the moment Maiza had confirmed that he was qualified.

"Well, that settles it then," McGonagall said with a nod. "Mr. Prochainezo, as Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, let me be the first to welcome you as our newest DADA professor. I look forward to teaching with you."

She extended a hand, and Firo gave a small grin as he accepted the handshake. "Thanks, same here."

"Now, onto other matters," McGonagall said, opening her carpetbag and pulling out a roll of parchment.

It was a good thing that Firo had the self-control that he did, otherwise he would have blurted out, 'Parchment?  _Seriously? How archaic can you get?'_  It certainly wouldn't be a good idea to insult Maiza's friend and the woman who was essentially his boss before he even started the job.

"Here is a list of books I'd recommend you read, mostly for the sake of knowing our history and how things work in Britain, along with everything you'll need for when you start classes. If there are any books that you require yet are not available, Professor Dumbledore will be more than happy to provide them."

She set what turned out to be rolls of parchment layered into one set of scrolls, before continuing, "As for how you'll be getting there, I actually have a Portkey here," she carefully pulled an old, moth-eaten bedcap from her carpetbag, and Firo almost missed the rest of her explanation due to the fact he was silently wondering why any would even have that thing in their possession, much less even want to touch it. Hell, even Maiza, Ennis and Czes found it disgusting. Although Firo could tell that Maiza hid his disgust much better.

"That will take you to a pub and inn called  _The Leaky Cauldron_ , which has access to Diagon Alley behind it. From there, you'll be able to exchange your money for the wizarding currency, get robes, books, whatever else you may need. You can even get a messenger owl or a pet if you so desire. Be sure to grasp this," she motioned to the nasty old bedcap, "at the same time, and to hold tightly onto whatever you're bringing with you. This Portkey has a timer on it, so everyone has about a minute to grasp it all at the same time."

Firo didn't want to touch the bedcap for ten seconds. Natural-born magic users were weird.

"If I may," Ennis spoke up, "don't we need to get some kind of special permission from the New York Ministry to travel to Britain and vise-versa? From what I understand, there are numerous forms that have to be filled out; even then it could take months…"

Although Firo wasn't sure exactly how the British Ministry operated, he knew something like transferring a foreign teacher could take time. He looked questioningly at McGonagall, silently wondering if her request could actually be fulfilled.

"There is a young man in the New York Branch who has been more than kind enough to assist me, although his methods are…unique. The New York Minister seems to have overextended himself quite a bit, so things slip under his nose," McGonagall shook her head. She obviously disapproved of whatever the guy at the N.Y. Branch did.

"Really?" Maiza asked thoughtfully. "That's rather unfortunate…"

"Pity, really. Mr. Ryker genuinely seems like a nice man." McGonagall replied, before giving a somewhat weary sigh that very likely came from all the explanations she had to do. "So you'll be able to acquire the proper documents you need for travel sooner rather than later. Since the Ministry requires that the Headmaster provide a Professor for the position, a requirement which he has fulfilled – and with both the Headmaster and me backing you, the Ministry will have no choice but to be accepting of this turn of events.

"Unless of course, they want the Headmaster making things  _very_  difficult for them, then the venerable Headmaster will more than happily oblige." McGonagall smiled at this, obviously some part of her took some enjoyment from this Dumbledore guy making people's lives difficult when they asked for it.

"I see…" Ennis returned the smile. Even though they hadn't officially met yet, Ennis was obviously intrigued by the man, and Firo was curious about him as well.

The old witch certainly seemed to disapprove of many things, Firo thought, but so far, all of them were legitimately things that pretty much deserved disapproval. Although, it did leave him wondering if there was anything she didn't disapprove of. He had noticed how her mouth would tighten into a firm line whenever he cursed. He didn't mind her disapproving of his words – too much. She might even disapprove of his actions, but still, he didn't want her disapproval of him. That would be bad, so he figured he would be careful whenever he was around her.

McGonagall pulled another set of scrolls out of her bag, an inkwell, and a quill which she handed to Firo, who this time couldn't help but give the witch an incredulous look. "A quill…?" he had a smartass comment just waiting to get out on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it. McGonagall needed him to sign in certain places on the scrolls she had pulled out, and once he was done she quickly put the items back into her bag.

"Well, then," McGonagall stood and the others stood with her. "This has certainly been a very eventful evening."

Turning to Maiza, she said, "It was really good to see you again, Maiza," giving him a quick hug which he returned as he said, "As always."

McGonagall extended a hand to Firo, saying, "This time next week, you should be free to travel to Britain, and we can easily make a Portkey to return you to New York at whichever location suits you best. I'll be sending you an owl for when everything has been officially confirmed."

Firo smiled as he shook McGonagall's hand. "I'm looking forward to it."

"You should come to  _The Leaky Cauldron_ once you have been approved. When you arrive, feel free to bring your family members," McGonagall sent Maiza a pointed glance as she said this. "The Headmaster would very much like to meet them before the start of term, I'm sure."

They immediately understood what McGonagall was saying. The British Ministry would know soon enough that Firo was arriving, and while all of their attention would be on him and his family, his  _Family members_  could slip in under the radar if need be. Firo had to admit he never took McGonagall as the sort of person to conspire any type of a devious plot. He was starting to like her.

"We actually use a different method of traveling rather than Portkeys and fireplaces," Maiza said, a knowing smile on his face. "So there'll be no need to make one, thankfully."

"Very well," McGonagall gave a firm nod. "I would like to see that. Anyway, I'll be sure to message the young man in the New York Branch that I've left via Portkey. I really must get back to Hogwarts so that we can start making preparations immediately. Have a good rest of your evening."

"One moment," Maiza took up his wand,  _"Reparti, Consenti Minerva McGonagall Viaggio."_

"Thank you, Maiza." McGonagall said.

The others bid their farewells, and watched curiously as McGonagall pulled out some sort of ugly-looking object they couldn't identify and they had to wonder why anyone would even consider touching it. Why were all of these Portkey things so disgusting? About thirty seconds went by before McGonagall started spinning in place rapidly until she was a blur, and she disappeared from sight.

"That was a Portkey?" Czes questioned while quirking an eyebrow. "It looks particularly unpleasant."

"Yeah…" Firo was looking forward to the trip, but not how they were going to get there. Damn, those witches and wizards had to make things so complicated.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1957_

_Minerva only nodded as she took more sugar than she usually did, feeling like she was going to need it._

" _So," Luck began, as he smiled calmly at her. "Just how did it come to be that you could perform magic?"_

Minerva stared at Luck for a moment, studying him. There was genuine interest on his features. She thought quickly but carefully before responding. Perhaps she could just give simple half-truths; but she would have to go about it carefully, as she was currently surrounded. Maybe just give them bits and pieces of what they wanted to know, and if they didn't Obliviate her, or worse – torture her or perform the Cruciatus Curse on her. A small part of Minerva felt her chances of reporting back to the New York Branch dwindling.

She must have taken longer than she thought to answer, because the sound of Luck's voice interrupted her thoughts. "If you're worried about us torturing you, you don't have to be." Minerva shot him a look. Did he guess or had he read her mind? Had he used Legilimency? She hadn't felt the familiar tickle of someone attempting to read her mind, and she had her Occlumency up in full force. Had he found a way around it?

He had that odd smile on his face again. "We won't be killing you either, if that makes you feel any better."

"I-um…sorry…I was just…thinking…" Minerva replied dumbly. She mentally scolded herself. She was on edge, being in unfamiliar territory facing a man who could or couldn't actually read her mind, and she wasn't sure if he actually was or not. "Well…I was born with the ability," she went to take a drink from her tea, but paused when the excited voices of the odd wizards sounded around her.

"You mean people are  _born_  able to perform magic?" Berga asked incredulously. But he leaned forward in his seat in obvious interest. "How's that work?"

"Well…" Minerva wanted was yet again taken aback at how these odd wizards were so sincere in their questioning and curiosity of her own magic.

"While there are wizarding families that go back for generations, occasionally Muggles," confusion was evident in the men's faces at the word, so she quickly added, "that is the term we magic-folk use for people who can't perform magic, although they're called Mundane here in America, will have a child who is capable of using magic…although, I assume that neither of those is the case for you gentlemen."

"Imagine that!" Pecho spoke up excitedly. "There're a whole bunch of other people out there who can use magic!"

Randy grinned at Pecho. "You think we could talk to them as well?" He looked over at Maiza and the Gandor brothers hopefully. "They have wands too, so we  _could_  potentially talk to  _them,_  right?"

Allen was sitting on the bar, with his own grin. "We technically wouldn't be breaking the rules…"

"That depends…" Maiza said, smiling gently. The friendly trio at the bar looked hopeful.

Keith on the other hand was a bit gruffer, causing the three to look slightly downtrodden in a matter of seconds. He sent Minerva a warning glare that sent shivers up her spine.

Minerva tensed, although she tried not to show it. Instead, she returned a rather defiant glare of her own, but it mustn't have been a very one.

"Keith does have a point, though." Luck said, thankfully translating for the silent Keith. "Not until we know their intentions. We don't want any damn magic users nosing around where they don't belong."

"Don't scare the poor girl, Keith," Luck chuckled. "There's no need to be so rash."

Keith glanced over at Luck, taking a drag of his cigarette as he did so. His expression changed ever so slightly, but it was the very opposite of friendly.

"I know you want to be careful, Keith. We all do." Luck responded to whatever Keith had 'said'. How in Merlin's name did they understand him? Was Keith mute? Minerva's musings on how Keith made himself understood by the others was interrupted by Luck speaking to her. "The last time a magic user came here, we were lucky none of us got killed."

Minerva noticed some sort of understanding cross Maiza's face, and he nodded. Another one of the wizards sitting at one of the tables spoke up, and Luck and Maiza started talking to him, but Minerva wasn't paying attention to what they were saying. She was busy focusing on the bits of information she had just heard and rapidly trying to draw conclusions from it all. Oh, Merlin. It was all very confusing.

So they had a dangerous experience with a witch or wizard, yet no knowledge of the magical world? Additionally, they were actually  _surprised_  that people were  _born_  being able to perform magic? Why was that?

Minerva felt her confusion growing by the second, and hoped that she would be allowed to ask her own questions. The young Auror felt that she was a fairly good judge of character, and had been studying the four men before her very carefully. She determined that she knew at least the most prominent characteristics each of the four men exhibited. Maiza was friendly and rational. Luck had a mysterious air about him that honestly set her on edge, but he seemed to keep both of his brothers grounded in areas they lacked. Thank Merlin for Maiza and even Luck…

Berga was the one who was ready and willing to resort to violence, uncaring of the consequences. She determined that he  _liked_  the idea of violence, and he probably wanted her to try something that would give him a chance to use his wand.

Meanwhile, Keith was silent and suspicious; both ready and willing to act if he felt there was any danger to him or the people around him. Minerva had noticed how he analyzed her; his hard gaze not leaving her since she sat down, how he had a hand near his wand. She could tell that due his concern and his take-charge attitude, he was the leader. Oh Merlin's beard!  _Keith Gandor_  was the leader of this band of wizards, and that also meant that he was the Big Boss that these Mafia wizards answered to.

Maybe those Randy, Pecho and Allen fellows would be on her side if things started going badly? What  _had_  she gotten herself into? Today just wasn't her day…

But Minerva recalled the earlier comments from a few of the men; these odd wizards  _didn't_  want to cause trouble or draw any unnecessary attention from anyone. It was like they had their own personal form of the Statute of Secrecy. Luck, Keith and Maiza seemed to be the ones discouraging Berga from violently killing anyone with his magic. Maiza had cast some form of the Obliviate spell on those three thugs, and other than a few scrapes and bruises he hadn't done any permanent damage. They didn't want to have any unnecessary attention on them, start a war, or even bother those Runoratta people unless they were someplace they weren't welcome.

…Unless of course their reasoning came from the fact that they were Mafioso.

But another fact was that they had excluded themselves to such an extent that the very idea of any other people with the ability to wield magic invoked genuine surprise and interest. But what was that about a magic user who almost killed them? The only rational conclusion Minerva could come to was that it had been someone with a unique form of magic like theirs. Yes, that made sense she supposed.

"Ms. Minerva? Are you alright?" a man's voice said, sounding somewhat concerned and even louder than what should have been necessary. Minerva started as she suddenly looked up the faces of the four men. There was amusement on Luck's face, slight concern on Maiza's, a scowl mixed with a quirked eyebrow on Keith's, and a curious expression on Berga's.

"I…I'm sorry. I was just thinking…" Minerva mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed that she hadn't been paying attention. This whole situation was overwhelming.

"You must have been doing quite a bit of 'thinking' as Maiza here said your name three times before you responded." Luck smiled. He was also odd in Minerva's opinion. She just couldn't place why – at least, not at the moment.

"So, I was curious," Luck lit a cigarette and Minerva politely declined when he offered her one. He took a long drag before continuing. "Where did you learn to wield your magic? Is it something your family taught you?"

Should she even mention wizarding schools? But they were just asking. Would they descend onto the schools? They didn't seem interested in causing unnecessary violence, so invading schools would be considered unnecessary, right? Unless of course, they would view the schools as a threat…then everything would fall apart and it would be her fault.

"W-well…I'm a Half-blood," Minerva began, silently hoping it wouldn't go any farther beyond what little she was planning to tell them. "My mother's a witch, and my father is a Muggle. My mother helped me control my magic." Yes, that was true enough.

"Was your mother the one to teach you everything?" Luck asked. "Or did you have to learn elsewhere?"

Oh, no…

"Well, I…" Minerva started again, but stopped as she bit her lip, trying to think of something else to tell them. Her mind rapidly began trying to fabricate an elaborate tale.

"Well what?" Luck was studying her with a gaze that felt as if he could see right through her. What if he was using Legilimency against her now?! She made the mistake of looking away from Luck to Keith. The man's cold stare was just as effective as Truth Serum if not more so. He seemed to absentmindedly shuffle a deck of cards that was in front of him with his left hand, while his right rested by his wand. He was tapping his fingers, ready to grab his wand and move at the first sign of danger.

Luck gave his cigarette a few light taps into an ashtray before sighing. "Are you worried about something?"

"Pardon me?" Minerva turned to him as she could tell he was analyzing her.

"Obviously, there's something that concerns you."

Minerva couldn't help but nod. "We have magic schools…with hundreds, if not thousands of students…"

"So your concern is for the safety of these students?" Luck pushed.

She nodded again, although silently, slowly relaxing in her seat. Even though Minerva didn't feel the prickling sensation of someone trying to penetrate her mind, she was still anxious. She didn't like the fact that Luck was reading her like an open book, and not even her training prevented him from doing so.

"If it makes you feel better," Luck gave her that odd smile, "we have no interest in your schools." Really? Minerva felt herself give a silent sigh of relief at that, but the thought of whatever these wizards could truly want worried her. "We merely wish to know about how you came to wield magic, among other things. How did you get your wand?"

What an odd question.

"…There's a man in England whose family makes them." Minerva replied carefully. "Other countries have families who specialize in wand-making. The man who gave me my wand told me, what was it…oh, yes, 'The wand chooses the wizard – it's not always clear why'."

"So another magic user gave you your wand?" one of the men sitting at one of the other tables spoke up. "And that's normal?"

"…Yes." That was another odd question.

"…That's interesting…" the man looked thoughtful. "I think I would have liked it a lot more if a guy had given me my wand instead of…" he glared as a few of the others started snickering. "Oh,  _come on!"_

Maiza looked amused, and he didn't bother trying to hide it. Even Luck was hiding a hint of laughter behind his hand. "You have to admit Eric that it  _was_  rather amusing when the time came to receive your wand."

Eric pouted, looking embarrassed as blush rushed to his cheeks. "Hey, it isn't funny! Any  _rational_ person would be terrified if something like that-"

Keith cleared his throat and motioned to Minerva with a simple nod of his head, in a "perhaps we should get back on topic" way.

Eric immediately became quiet, and focused on the glass of alcohol in front of him. It was clear that Keith's 'word' was law. Minerva could've sworn she heard Eric muttering, "It's a perfectly rational fear…"

Just who or  _what_  gave them their wands? Obviously, it was something that Keith didn't want her to know.

Over the course of a few hours, the odd wizards questioned McGonagall more on how she received her wand, her schooling, what she knew about the other magic schools, although the topic of where they were located never came up – along with questions about her fellow magic users. The questions honestly seemed relatively harmless. They just wanted to know how the magical community functioned; it honestly was like telling students about an entirely different country. Minerva found herself gradually becoming more comfortable as she conversed with them, and soon she was answering their questions to the best of her ability. They weren't asking anything invasive, nor were they threatening her if she couldn't answer a question because she was under some sort of obligation not to.

Minerva noticed how Keith and Berga slowly relaxed, although Berga still seemed to be ready for the worst. The young witch was intrigued by their fascination. It could easily be compared to a Muggle-born person truly discovering magic for the first time. In some outlandish way, it was endearing.

That was an opinion she would keep to herself, of course.

"This is amazing!" Allen for one was ecstatic and Minerva unwittingly found herself smiling with him. His enthusiasm was contagious. "Imagine, there's all those other magic users out there! They have this  _entire_ culture, right under everyone's noses! Think of what we could learn from them!"

Allen was looking at the Gandor Brothers hopefully, especially at Keith, who was shuffling that deck of cards again, looking thoughtful.

"They have books, right?" Randy questioned.

"They do…" Minerva slowly answered with a nod.

"You hear that, Mr. Luck? They have  _books."_  Randy put a sing-song tone on the word. He was grinning. "Books are good, right, Pecho?"

"Y-yes!" Pecho said quickly after receiving a jab in the side from Randy's boney elbow when he took too long to answer.

"Perhaps…it wouldn't hurt to just talk to a few of the other magic users in this city." Luck said, almost offhandedly. Keith glanced at him, seemingly because he was questioning Luck's reasoning for talking to the wizards living in the city. Luck casually shrugged a shoulder in response.

So Luck liked to read? Minerva actually suppressed a giggle. What a strange thing to use to persuade a person into doing something!

"May I ask you gentlemen something now…?" Minerva asked, showing some hopefulness and curiosity. "If I may…" Minerva took out her wand, holding it in a way that showed she had no intention of using it, and placed it on the table. "This is my wand, fir and dragon heartstring, nine and half inches, stiff."

They studied her wand lying harmlessly on the center of the table, and after a minute or two, Keith hesitantly reached out and his hand hovered over her wand. He sent Minerva a glance that she interpreted as his silently asking her if he could touch it.

Hoping she was right, Minerva nodded, and Keith picked up the wand as if he expected it to explode or break as he was holding it. His expression changed to that of interest, and something almost like childish fascination crossed his stern features before he returned the wand to its place on the table.

Keith then picked up his own wand and held it out to Minerva, and he seemed to mutter something that she didn't quite catch. But then he spoke quietly, "His name is Paonazzo. Don't cast any spells."

It didn't exactly sound like a warning, but more like a casual statement. Minerva blinked a few times in surprise. Keith had  _spoken_  to her! But that surprise fell away to curiosity.

"Your wand has a name and a gender? Interesting," Minerva said as she studied the wand. She carefully ran a finger along the wand. It was somewhat heavier than the traditional wand, and she noticed how Keith's wand was an odd grayish-purple color. What kind of wood was this? It obviously wasn't dyed. The wand itself she had to guess was about twelve inches; the handle was about two inches long, and was made of dark silver that intertwined with the wood so effortlessly that both the wood and the silver might as well have been one element. Strange runes were carved into the wood, running along the paths the dark silver followed within the wood. Minerva moved her inspection to the handle, and noticed that there was some sort of symbol of a bird. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a raven that was meticulously carved into the handle. The raven seemed to have three eyes – with the third located on its forehead, indicated by a small, red sapphire – it was almost hypnotic looking into that red eye. The wand was beautiful, and would have made the likes of Ollivander jump with glee at being able to study such a magnificent wand.

"It's amazing…" McGonagall breathed. "Truly amazing…"

Was this how Ollivander felt when he was challenged with creating and finding wands for students?

She gently handed the wand back to Keith, treating it like a delicate glass as she did so. It was then she noticed the wands that the other men had; Berga's was a sort of light brown color with a silver handle, and it had the same runes and intertwined elements. Maiza's was a soft brown, with silver that was almost white. Their wands were like nothing she had ever seen, just like their magic. She had so many questions!

"I-" Minerva started, but was cut off when a wispy finch of some kind flew into the bar and landed on the table in front of her.

"What is that thing?!" Eric demanded, gripping the back of his seat nervously.

The four men at Minerva's table all jumped from their seats in record time, knocking their chairs over in the process, and pointed their wands at the corporeal Patronus. Everyone else followed their lead, each producing a wand.

"Wait, stop!" Minerva stood, holding her hands up in an attempt to prevent any unnecessary spell-casting. "It's just a Patronus!"

" _Minerva, where are you?!"_ the panicked voice of a woman sounded through the finch.  _"Are you alright? Please respond immediately! I've been looking for you everywhere! Come to 7th and 10th as soon as you get this! If you aren't here within the next ten minutes, I'm going to call a search party!"_

"What is a Patronus?" Berga demanded, holding his wand as if he was trying to decide whether he should point it at Minerva or at the Patronus.

"Why is it a bird?!" Eric was slowly backing away; his wand at the ready. He clearly didn't want to be in the same room with the 'bird.' Was he scared of birds? Why was that? Wait – that wasn't her concern right now!

"I can't explain right now," Minerva gushed as she grabbed her wand and stuffed it into her pocket. "Merlin's beard, I lost track of time! How late am I…?" Minerva gave the clock on the wall a single glance. "Oh, great Merlin,  _that's_ the time?! Oh, no. No, no, no. This won't do! Do you gentlemen  _realize_  how  _late_  you have made me?!" Her voice unintentionally took on a scolding tone. They had been talking for almost five hours, and Minerva was supposed to have met up with her American Auror partner over two hours ago. "How about I just come back tomorrow and explain what a Patronus is? That should work out for all of us. I'll be here promptly at 6 p.m. sharp."

Before any of the men could respond, Minerva rushed out the door. She came back in about eight seconds later, and said, "It was lovely chatting with you gentlemen. Tomorrow, I get to ask my own questions. Of course, I won't persist in my questioning if it's about a personal matter."

Within the time of her chatting with them, Minerva had gotten more comfortable and more confident, so in turn her true practical and strict persona emerged. She turned to leave again, but popped her head back in to add, "Mr. Avaro, thank you for saving me from those thugs. Much appreciated. To the Gandor Brothers, thank you as well – for accommodating me and the conversation was very interesting. Perhaps we can have a few demonstrations of spells? Oh, and Allen, was it? Thank you for the tea. It was lovely." Everything had been said in the span of one breath, and with a polite nod of her head, Minerva said, "Have a good rest of your day, gentlemen. I will see you tomorrow. 6 p.m."

She was out the door again, leaving behind a group of very confused wizards.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1995_

It was late evening by now in Scotland, and Professor McGonagall had just left Dumbledore's office with good news: she had successfully found a new teacher for the Defense class, although it wasn't this Maiza friend of hers – it was one of his subordinates. McGonagall had said that she needed to write a few letters to people in the New York Branch of Magical Affairs, and had made her way to the owlery to complete the task.

Dumbledore couldn't help but smile in relief, and he had to admit he was interested in meeting this Firo Prochainezo fellow along with his wife and brother-in-law, along with other members of his Family. The Headmaster strode over to his fireplace and took a handful of Floo, and called the British Ministry, requesting to speak with Cornelius Fudge. The Minister's face came into view a few minutes later, and he smiled upon seeing Dumbledore. Although, it was a very forced smile that was plastered across his face and not one that showed he was indubitably pleased with whom he was speaking.

"Professor Dumbledore!" the Minister said, making it sound like he was absolutely oh-so-very-happy. "What brings about this call this particularly fine evening?"

"It's about the Defense position, Cornelius." Dumbledore responded, as he laced his hands behind his back.

"Oh?" There was an obvious glint in Cornelius' eye. "I can have Ms. Umbridge there-"

"Actually," Dumbledore held up a hand, "Do excuse my interruption, and please accept my upmost apologies, but the position has been filled. The papers are on their way to be signed and everything to be confirmed as we speak."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the sight of Cornelius, who quite expertly fought to maintain a look of dignity and refinement. Although Dumbledore was fairly certain that he saw Cornelius' left eye twitch a few times. "I-is that so?"

"Why yes, my Deputy Headmistress has interviewed him and can account for his credentials as well. He is quite the skilled wizard, despite his age. He'll be transferring from America for the year."

"Is that so?" seemed to be the only response Cornelius had, through his tight lipped smile.

"Yes," Dumbledore said pleasantly, continuing as if he didn't even notice the rage and frustration that was building within the Minister of Magic, the latter of course was doing a very poor job of not showing his anger. "From what I understand, he comes from a powerful family of wizards, and he's quite the family man himself! His wife and young brother-in-law are coming along as well!"

Dumbledore spoke jovially, ignoring Cornelius who was silently seething from where he sat.

"Is that so," Cornelius said again, seemingly still quite stuck with those three words.

"Well, then," Dumbledore gave a clap of his hands, "I best be going, I have to get to dinner and have an entire school year to plan. Have a pleasant evening, Minister!" and with that, Dumbledore cut off the connection.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

On the other side of that call, sat a fuming Minister of Magic named Cornelius Fudge, who full heartedly believed that this was some sort of ploy that Dumbledore was using to get into the very office in which Fudge himself sat.

"That-that…" Fudge tightened his hands into fists and slammed them onto his chair's armrests. "That old, conniving, crazy, old bastard!"

He didn't care if he was repeating himself. Fudge let a slew of colorful words mixed with Merlin's name, beard, and other body parts curse Dumbledore, his plans, the Deputy Headmistress and even the American wizard he hadn't even met. Fudge now paced back and forth in his office, shaking his fists and muttering under his breath. A knock on the door interrupted Fudge's ranting, and he quickly took his seat at his desk and wiped his brow with a handkerchief, which had become rather sweaty amid all of his pacing and ranting.

"Y-yes?" he called out, acting as if he hadn't been doing and saying such undignified things. "Come in."

Dolores Umbridge stepped into the office, wearing her usual attire of pink clothing.

" _Hem-hem._ Is everything alright, Minister?" she asked. "I heard some rather unpleasant noises coming from your office, and I became oh-so-very worried."

"It seems that Dumbledore has found a Defense teacher for the term…" Fudge said with a tired sigh. "A young wizard from America, of all places."

"A  _foreigner?"_ Dolores gasped, eyes going wide. "And you said that he was young? How young? How is a  _young_  wizard able to properly teach the dear children what they need to know? Is he experienced enough? These are questions that need to be asked and answered, Minister."

"That Minerva woman can account for him, apparently." Fudge sighed. "They found him last minute it seems, and are sending the proper documents over as of now. It seems that there will be no way for you to fulfill the position at the school."

"Well then," Dolores said sweetly. "There's no way we can have that, now is there?"

"What are you saying?" Fudge inquired.

Dolores gave a "Tsk-tsk" and shook her head. "Have you  _heard_ the unsavory stories about the American Ministry and all fifty of its branches? It seems that they have gotten away from tradition, and are transitioning Muggle methods into their Ministries, and even Muggles  _themselves_ in some places."

Fudge balked. Places in America actually  _allowed_  such things? What about the Statute of Secrecy?

"Which brings me to this point: what do we know of this  _American foreigner?"_  Dolores put emphasis on the two words as if they were poison. "What will he teach those poor, innocent minds sitting  _defenseless_  in Hogwarts? I say  _that_  is what we-no,  _you_  should worry about. He might even say a few things against you – you know how those Americans think."

Fudge flinched in his seat, a hand tightening around his handkerchief. So that was Dumbledore's plan all along! That old bastard must have had a teacher waiting on the sidelines, ready to rip the carpet out from under his feet at the last minute! What a clever ploy…Fudge had to at least admit that.

"What do we do?" Fudge questioned miserably. "The position has been filled, and there is no way to deny it, as Dumbledore has kept up his part of the contract."

"Have a talk with Dumbledore about opening up a new position at Hogwarts; one that will ensure that the children receive a proper education. We cannot risk their minds being poisoned after all. Not with the talk of the Dark Lord supposedly having returned, and especially not with the arrival of that foreign wizard."

"What position would that be?" Fudge asked, looking hopeful – much like a child would upon being promised to receive something that would bring joy and happiness.

"The new position would be called 'High Inquisitor' and it would be  _my_ job to ensure that the dear children are being taught to  _your_  standards." Dolores walked over to Fudge, and leaned to place a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Because of this foreigner, you need to make sure that everyone and everything is in its proper place.

"Have this talk with Dumbledore, and know that you have my full support, Minister. I will write a few notes with key points that you can discuss with Dumbledore, so that he will not be able to say no to your request."

"Yes, yes!" Fudge was lively once again. "You do that! I'm so happy I can count on you at times like these, Dolores. You are most reliable…honestly; it feels like you're the only one I can trust."

"Of course, Minister." Dolores smiled at him sweetly. "I'll always be here; you can count on me."

While Dolores left to go write out whatever notes he needed when he spoke with Dumbledore again, Fudge had to grin to himself, as he believed he was in control once again. Fudge rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation, as he was just imagining the look on Dumbledore's face as he told him about Dolores and what would be her new position at Hogwarts. That new Professor wouldn't know what hit him, and Fudge was sure the boy would be begging to quit before the term was even halfway through.

This certainly had the makings of an interesting year at Hogwarts, although Fudge had no idea how both right and wrong he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Firo takes the DADA job just to piss the British Magical Ministry off, and Umbridge makes her move! Oh Merlin. Delores Umbridge, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into!
> 
> oOo***oOo
> 
> I debated on whether or not the Immortals' wands would be sentient and have names, and decided that they totally should. No, the wands are not like the zanpakuto in Bleach, so no worries there. Just in case you actually worry about that sort of thing.
> 
> Until next time – Over and out, you awesome readers, you.
> 
> oo~*~*O*~*~oo
> 
> Spells –
> 
> Maiza's Spell –
> 
> Reparti,Consenti McGonagall Viaggio – Wards, Allow Minerva McGonagall Travel
> 
> Keith's wand – Paonazzo – Can mean Livid or Purple


	4. Complaining About a Wizard's Impractical Ways of Travel Doesn't Really Help, but it Does Make One Feel Better, if only for a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firo and his family arrive in Diagon Alley, and end up learning some very interesting things about Flamel - but McGonagall arrives, already needing their help. Meanwhile, in 1957, Minerva meets with the strange wizards and ends up learning a shocking revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support – it truly means a lot!

_1995_

The lack of need for sleep found Firo in his living room watching infomercials in the waking hours of the early July morning. They were the only interesting thing on at this time of day. Ennis sat next to him reading a book of some sort, and she absentmindedly held his hand with hers as she absorbed the contents of her book.

Czes sat on the floor while leaning on the coffee table as he rested his head in his hands. He rolled his eyes as the man on the TV enthusiastically insisted that people couldn't possibly function without buying some sort of revolutionary electric can opener. There was even an added bonus of a revolutionary apple slicer and special plastic containers for preserving food for a few weeks longer than normal Tupperware. Customers who had used the products came on, talking about how their lives had changed after using the can opener and other kitchen essentials.

"I can't believe people actually buy crap like this." Czes muttered. "I knew many people throughout my 300 hundred years, and all of them survived without relying on…" he somewhat glowered at the overly-enthusiastic host now demonstrating the apple slicer. "Mindless inventions like that. People are literally handing these infomercial people their wallets."

"Well, I think-" Firo started, but was interrupted by a strange tapping on the living room window. "What the hell…?"

They were only four floors up, but it wasn't like someone could easily throw pebbles at their window, and it couldn't have been anyone from the Family. They didn't contact Family members by throwing things at their windows – plus the tapping was far too rhythmic to be ordinary tossed pebbles. All three of them turned to the window, cautiously. The curtains were closed; so being blind to whatever was outside, Firo made sure he had easy access to both his pocket knife and his wand, and slowly headed over to the window.

Both Ennis and Czes readied themselves as well, making sure they had their wands and a Mundane weapon as well. The majority of traditional magic users foolishly only relied on their wands, and never expected a person to have a secondary weapon. None of them could sense any magic outside, but that didn't mean they would lower their guard. As the rhythmic tapping continued, Firo quickly grabbed the curtain and yanked it back, expertly drawing his wand in the process. The cause of the tapping made all of them do a double-take.

"An  _owl?!"_ Czes just stared at the creature as it continued tapping at the window with its beak as it sat on the ledge outside. Firo honestly didn't think a bird could express anything through facial features, but the owl had a very expectant look on its face. "…Uh… _finestra, aperta."_

The window opened upon Firo's command, and the owl flew in and slowly circled overhead before landing somewhat awkwardly on the coffee table and lifted its leg, revealing a thick-looking envelope tied to its proffered leg. When Czes tried to reach for it, the owl hooted and scooted away, flapping its wings in protest. Czes quickly backed off when the owl gave the boy a very nasty peck on his hand that resulted in drawing blood. Within seconds of course, Czes' hand healed, but now he was ready to literally curse the owl.

The owl calmed down within seconds, and looked very annoyed at Czes gave a hoot that very likely could have been considered as an insult, before glancing at Firo and extending its leg once again. Firo slowly approached the owl, and just as slowly reached for the envelope just in case the thing tried to peck his hand like it did Czes'. There was no protest of any sort as Firo easily took the envelope and after doing so the owl gave one last hoot and flapped its wings taking to the air, but decided to leave Czes a little 'present' before flying out of the window and disappearing into the coming dawn.

"I'm beginning to see why Eric hates birds," Czes glared at the offending bird.

Ennis quickly performed a spell to get rid of the owl's little gift, looking humored as she did so. Both she and Firo shared a look that expressed their amusement at Czes' expense.

Firo studied the envelope, and saw some sort of wax seal on the front. He looked at the back and read aloud, "'Mr. Firo Prochainezo, the 417th room on the Uppermost floor, Between the Restaurant Alleva and Café Napoli, Little Italy, Manhattan, New York, America'." Firo scoffed. "An owl? Why not just send something like this through an enchanted mailbox? I thought people were using those now."

"Maybe enchanted mailboxes haven't caught on yet in Europe?" Ennis suggested.

Firo gave another scoff, muttering something that went along the lines of "Old fogies and their stupid owls," as he tore open the envelope, and pulling out a few sheets of parchment. After giving everything a quick onceover and reading bits and pieces of it aloud as he did so, Firo was pretty much able to figure out that these were the necessary travel papers and other documents that proved he, Ennis and Czes had every right to be in Europe, along with Firo's certificate permitting him to teach at Hogwarts. A few more pieces of parchment showed what responsibilities Firo would have as a teacher, and even Ennis was permitted to act as a substitute – Firo smiled at that, and she could give and take away House Points. What the hell were those? Oh, well. He'd find out later. Firo was slightly annoyed at having to decipher the incredibly swirled handwriting of this Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore guy.

"I wonder why the European magic users are still using such old-fashioned methods." Czes said.

"It's what works for them, I guess." Firo shrugged. It didn't really concern him why Europe and America had such differing methods, unless it somehow actually affected him or his family. Honestly, he couldn't have cared less about such things. "I suppose I'll call Maiza and tell him the good news. I guess we'll get our things together and leave early this afternoon so that we'll be able to get ready for our year at Hogwarts."

"Alright," Ennis nodded.  _"_ _Finestra, chiusa,"_

The window now closed, Firo went to call Maiza, while his wife and Czes went to pack their things for the trip. Firo smiled as he heard Czes mention having been to Europe almost one hundred years ago, although it was only for a brief amount of time traveling through the countryside. Firo honestly wasn't sure where Maiza would be at this time, but his best guess would either be at the restaurant or at the bar. Maiza wasn't exactly the type to spend his time at the house that only really served as nothing more than an address. Upon seeing the inside for the first time years ago, Firo jokingly told his mentor that it 'looked very boring.' Maiza of course, laughed at the comment.

Being Immortal himself now, Firo understood why Maiza's place basically looked more like someone lived there instead of lived-in. They only really needed the most basic of necessities, and that didn't even include things like food and medical care. They didn't even sleep, although Firo and Ennis had a bed, that was only for when they… Firo shook his head to get his thoughts back on track, and picked up the phone receiver and dialed the office above the bar first. On the third ring, Firo gave a quiet sigh of relief when Maiza answered.

"Hello, Maiza! Good morning," Firo greeted cheerily.

Firo could swear that he heard the smile in Maiza's voice as he answered. "Good morning to you too, Firo…one moment," Firo heard Maiza pull the phone from his ear and Maiza was saying something to someone else – probably Allen. A minute or two later, Maiza was back. "So, why are you calling so early?"

"I just got some letter from Hogwarts confirming my position as their newest teacher. Get this: by owl. Also, that headmaster has terrible handwriting. I didn't know cursive could have any more swirls than it already does." Firo glanced down at the name that was signed at the bottom of various pieces of parchment. "He also has a ridiculously long name. I actually almost thought that it was a code or something…"

"Natural-born magic users tend to have odd names; the more traditional the family is, the odder the name." Maiza explained simply. "I guess what I'm saying is that you better get used to it."

"Yeah…" Firo responded, as he sorted through the parchment to get the necessary documents he needed for the trip. "So, we're packing everything now. We're planning to leave sometime this afternoon."

"Already? I didn't know you were so eager to get away from us."

"I'm not – " Firo started to protest, but stopped himself. He huffed when he heard Maiza laugh. "Very funny,"

"I'll tell the others that you're leaving today, so come by the bar before you go." Maiza said a few seconds later, not missing a beat and getting the conversation back on track. "Don Molsa and the Gandors along with everyone else will certainly want to say goodbye."

"Alright then," Firo responded. "We'll come by the mirror. I'll see you guys then."

He hung up the phone and made sure he had everything he needed from the contents of the envelope, and then Firo went to his and Ennis' bedroom to help her pack. There were quite a few magical items and numerous books that Ennis believed would help them while they were in Scotland, and Firo simply went along with Ennis and her instincts. As the old saying went: 'better safe than sorry'.

Within a few hours, they were ready to go. Before leaving, all three of them made sure to check the wards ensuring that no one could enter uninvited and that the apartment would be left exactly as it was now for when they returned. After making the few necessary adjustments to the wards, and one last quick check that they had everything, they were ready to leave.

Stepping up to a full-length mirror that was in the corner of their living room, Czes took the lead and tapped the left bottom corner. The mirror's surface began to glow a milky white, and a childish voice that could have easily been either a boy or a girl spoke up, although the voice sounded very tired.

" _W-what-what-what…? What time is it? What's going on?"_

"We need to get to  _Alveare,"_  Czes answered simply.

" _Very well,"_  the mirror's surface shifted from a milky white to a green tint, and the mirror suspended itself in the air. A few seconds later, the voice spoke up,  _"Step on through when you're ready."_

The three of them touched the glowing green surface, and felt themselves being sucked in. Firo could only describe the sensation as being wrapped in an ice-cold blanket before feeling the temperature rise to just short of extremely uncomfortable levels before cooling down again; and a glowing light that was the size of a penny was in front of them. That was when they prepared themselves to be pushed through. It felt as if they were being shoved through a tight doorway all at once. A few seconds later they were in the storage area of the Martillo Family's restaurant, stepping through another full-length mirror.

"You're here!" Senna greeted happily, but she clearly had been crying. "Everyone else is downstairs." Before any of them could respond, Senna quickly turned and said, "We shouldn't keep them waiting."

They went downstairs to the dining room, and saw that the only people there were those who were in the Family.

Don Molsa Martillo rose from his seat with a smile on his face, and he held his arms out showing he fully expected a hug from Firo – which he quickly gave. Pulling away from the embrace, Don Molsa rested his hands on Firo's shoulders, and smiled.

"I remember the day you first came to us, young Firo." the Don started proudly, "and now you're off on a whole new adventure. Take care of yourself over there." Don Molsa had on odd look on his face for a second or two, as he seemed torn between looking annoyed or worried. "If those rumors coming out of Europe are anything to go by, you had better be careful. That goes for you two as well," he glanced at Ennis and Czes, who nodded in response. "Take care of each other. I want all of you to come back to us."

"Yes, sir," Firo grinned.

"And show those magic users how a Martillo, fights, yes?" Don Molsa was smiling mischievously.

"Wouldn't show 'em any other way," Firo swore all-too-seriously.

They shared a laugh for a minute or two before Don Molsa reached into the pocket inside of his suit jacket saying, "We have something for you," and he produced a small golden key. "Maiza and the Gandor brothers all chipped in their fair share as well." Don Molsa gestured to the men in turn. "This key is to a vault within the bank the magic users use. You and your family can use the contents within it however you see fit."

Firo wanted to tear up. "You…thank you. All of you…seriously, thanks."

Ennis smiled. "Yes, Don Molsa, everyone…you have my thanks as well."

"Thank you, sir." Czes mumbled shyly, his child's mind fully showing itself at the moment.

It seemed that everyone in the Family had decided that they wanted see them off. Randy and Pecho were acting like overly concerned parents in a joking manner, their comments getting more and more ridiculous as they continued.

"Make sure you write or call every week!" Randy said.

"Don't talk to strangers, or go with people you don't know!" Pecho added.

"Try not to have fun!" Randy called.

"Try not to get caught if you kill anyone!" Pecho laughed when Firo gave him a playful shove.

"Yeah, yeah," Firo stuffed a hand into the pocket of his jeans and gave a wistful sigh. "You idiots can stop now. It's a wonder how you'll survive without me…"

"I think we can manage," Allen grinned, "For the most part."

"Don't be sending us any damn birds." Eric groused. "Those things are messy." He studied the very uninteresting carpet on the floor before quickly adding, "And be careful. Like Don Molsa said…Things sound as if they're really dangerous where you're going. I don't want to find out any of you died because some idiot bastard got lucky enough to end you."

"Promise," Firo saluted.

"Please," Czes smirked; obviously confident enough in his abilities to survive whatever magical Britain could throw at them.

"Thank you, Eric." Ennis replied, with her usual smile.

Firo could tell that his wife seemed to want to say something more, but had decided against it for one reason or another. Perhaps it was because Eric would get angry or embarrassed at being called out for voicing his concerns?

Wu was fussing just like a concerned mother over making sure they had everything, while Ennis did her best to convince the girl that they had double-checked their luggage just moments ago. Senna was now crying as she stood with the others, blubbering through her tears, "I can't believe we aren't going to see you guys for an entire year…"

"It'll only be for eight month, nine at most," Firo fruitlessly assured before turning to Maiza with a grin. "I'll make sure to take care of everything, and I'll call if anything comes up."

"Take care of yourself," Maiza gave Firo an encouraging pat on the arm. Czes gave Maiza a tight hug, and the older man looked surprised when Ennis gave him a hug as well. Ennis had taken a few decades to actually be willing to even go out with Firo, so this was a huge step for her. Firo couldn't help but feel proud.

"I will take care of both of them, Maiza." she promised as she pulled away.

"Without a doubt," Maiza smiled.

The Gandor brothers stood off to the side, waiting until the members of the Martillo Family finished.

"We'll see you again soon, kid." Berga said in his usual tone. He gave Firo a few pats on the shoulder.

Keith only nodded in his usual stern manner, but his expression said more than his words ever could.

Luck had one of his more friendly smiles on, and he also gave Firo an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "See you soon. If anything happens, we'll be there in no time. When you see Minerva, please let her know that as well."

"Of course," Firo promised.

"Oh, yes. I almost forgot." Luck reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag. "We found a way to modify the marbles we use for the mirrors, so we can actually use them to communicate. All you have to do of course is say the name of the person you want to call. Although it probably goes without saying, that person needs to have one of the enchanted mirrors if you want to contact them. Instructions are enclosed, of course."

"Wow, thanks!" Firo said excitedly.

After a few more rounds of goodbyes, and a few more parting gifts which were packed away for the trip, the trio finally had to leave. Remembering what McGonagall had said about the Portkey, Firo, Ennis, and Czes took hold of the disgusting and old, moth-eaten nightcap, while keeping a tight grip on their luggage. Just in case, they had placed a few charms on their luggage to stay in their hands if one of them happened to loosen their grip at any point during the trip. About a minute passed before anything happened, and Firo felt a strange pull behind his navel, and a few seconds later he found himself spinning through the air with Ennis and Czes in tow.

The trip had likely taken only a few minutes, but to the three travelers, it was a few minutes too long. They landed rather painfully on a hard, wooden surface in a tangle of limbs and luggage.

"Ugh…" Czes moaned, as he pulled himself out from under a dazed Ennis.

"Is-is everyone alright?" Firo's head was still spinning as he stood, and slowly helped Ennis up, although he didn't seem to be much help, and Ennis was doing a very poor job of pulling herself up. Firo was sure that they both looked more like drunken puppets trying to support each other.

"That was most unpleasant, I don't think I like traveling by Portkey, Firo." Ennis responded, holding her head. "I believe if I had been a normal person I would have lost the contents of my stomach by now…"

It seemed to take quite a few minutes for them to compose themselves. Probably because traveling by Portkey wasn't considered an injury. Out of all the things their bodies didn't need and easily recuperated from, recalibration from rapid spinning was something their bodies simply had to recover from like any normal person's.

"How did an old lady like McGonagall even survive traveling by one of those things?" Firo asked no one in particular. He brushed dirt from the floor off of his clothing while making a face. Some of this dirt  _had_  to be older than him; probably even Czes.

"Unless it absolutely, without a doubt, involves life or death, I  _don't_  want to travel by that damned Portkey again." Czes groused. No one disagreed with him. He blushed somewhat when Ennis bent down to help brush him off.

They surveyed the room they were standing in, and it seemed as if they were in some sort of dusty storage room that hadn't been cleaned in a few decades' worth of years, with old beds, chairs and other types of furniture and other knickknacks shoved every which way into the room. Wherever items weren't haphazardly stuffed into some random space, thick cobwebs took up residence instead. An old fireplace was in the corner, and had a table next to it and a faded copper urn sat on the table.  _Floo_  was scratched into the side of the urn.

The door to the room opened, and an old man entered. He grinned upon seeing them, revealing his lack of teeth. Firo silently thought that the man reminded him of a humanoid toothless walnut, complete with beady black eyes.

The man spoke gruffly in a thick accent, "You must be that new teacher Dumbledore talked about. This here's the storage room," he motioned to the obvious with a wrinkled hand, "come this way, I've already got a room set up for you."

They gathered themselves and their luggage, and followed after the man, who continued to talk; "I'm Tom, landlord, innkeeper and barman here at the  _Leaky Cauldron,_ " only pausing to inquire about the names of his newest guests. He chuckled, "So you're Yanks, then. Dumbledore's been of the opinion that Hogwarts could always do with a bit of diversity."

He chuckled and coughed for a moment, before continuing, "Once you get settled, I'll show you how to access Diagon Alley. I imagine you probably want to get some rest first."

"Actually," Firo said, "I think we'll just put our luggage in our room and get Diagon Alley out of the way as soon as possible. I need to get a few course books selected anyway." He looked to Ennis and Czes. "If that's alright with you two?"

"I'm curious about Diagon Alley," Ennis responded with a smile, and Czes nodded in agreement.

"Whatever works for you," Tom shrugged. He led them to a room on the third floor, where they deposited their things, and followed Tom downstairs. Just like the upstairs, it was old, gray, and dusty looking. Various witches and wizards sat around at the tables, and Firo cocked an eyebrow at the pointed hats and robes. Were they serious? How stereotypical did they want to get? He noticed how a few robed figures walked out of the main entrance and disappeared into the crowd of Mundane walking past without notice of the inn. Although a few did take notice of the robed figures and glanced questioningly to one another, before eventually continuing on their way.

Firo did have to give pause as two men who entered the building, and were wearing such ridiculous clothing it made Isaac and Miria's eccentric style seem normal. They were dressed in tie-dye shirts and horrendous pants that were better suited for a clown. They honestly looked as if they had stepped straight out of the 70's. Was that what they thought the Mundane – or as they called them here, Muggles, wore nowadays? He remembered McGonagall saying something about there being some sort of a disconnect between magic and non-magic users, but this was ridiculous. Even the majority of magic users back home at least  _tried_ to look like the Mundane, even if they wore clothing that was somewhat outdated by a few decades. Only the older and more traditional magic users would wear this type of clothing.

Firo shook his head, figuring he would just have to get used to it. Natural-born magic users were weird.

Tom led them out back to the alleyway to a high brick wall, and pulled out his wand. "Watch carefully, so you can access it yourselves if you need to."

He motioned to a trashcan, "Remember, three up, two across from the bin," and he tapped the bricks in the subsequent order, and the bricks that made up the wall began to twist away from each other, opening much like a curtain. An entire world was opened before them, and Firo couldn't help but stand there open-mouthed, absolutely amazed.

"Wow…" Ennis breathed.

"This is amazing!" there was a childish air to Czes' amazement.

"We don't have anything like this where we are in America," Firo quickly explained to Tom, who was watching them, looking amused.

"You wouldn't be the first," he laughed. "Diagon Alley is the best of the best, after all. No offense, but America's wizards n' witches and magical towns got nothing on us." he was obviously enjoying their reactions. "Enjoy."

Tom went back into the inn, while Firo and his companions stepped into Diagon Alley, and the wall closed behind them. Hundreds of people wore robes of various colors, although it seemed that most of the robes of choice were black, and nearly everyone wore pointy hats. They slowly took in the sight of all the buildings that sold a variety of wares, from specialty items for travel, to telescopes, to a junk shop. When they looked at what was displayed in the window of the junk shop, Ennis cocked her head.

"I honestly cannot understand the need for such a thing…isn't a broken wand useless? Why would anyone actually  _buy_  one?"

"I'm not even going to try and guess how these people think until I get my hands on a few of those books that Minerva recommended." Firo responded, as he questioningly glanced at a broken set of silver scales on display. "Even then, I'm probably not going to understand it…"

"Perhaps there are people who repair and restore them?" Czes suggested.

"I guess," Firo wasn't sure. Czes' question only made Firo start thinking about all the possibilities these magic users could use broken junk for.

The further into Diagon Alley, the more impressed Firo admittedly became. Back in America, or at least in New York, magical shops for magic users also catered to the Mundane, under the guise of novelty stores, book stores, and antique shops, all shoved in between other stores and houses. There were not really any towns in the U.S. that specifically catered to magic users, although Firo had heard that there were a few magical towns mostly spread across the Deep South, the most prominent one being located in New Orleans, Louisiana.

"It's like stepping back in time…" Czes marveled at everything, looking very much like the child he actually was. "It reminds me of the villages I passed through in my travels. At least here, they aren't dumping their bodily waste out the windows."

Both Firo and Ennis chuckled at the comment.

It was easy enough to find Gringotts, as it was a tall, white building with the name displayed prominently on its front. Numerous magic users exited and entered the building, and as they made their way up the steps, it was easy enough to tell which magic users were of the pure-blood class, because they gave the three foreigners a haughty look, sometimes even accompanied by a sneer. Firo ignored them as he mentally rolled his eyes. Even though they were correct in assuming that he and his little family were 'Muggle-born' he didn't exactly like the fact that they just assumed and therefore felt the immediate right to judge. Maybe it was even the fact that they were dressed like 'Muggles' and not in the traditional robes. Firo hoped that he wouldn't be too tempted to knock a few teeth out any time soon. Ennis at least, was there to make sure he didn't do anything too stupid.

Inside the bank, more magic users stood at various cubicles, being waited on by what Firo swore were the ugliest creatures to ever walk the earth. Somewhere in the info McGonagall or Dumbledore had provided to him, it had stated that goblins owned and operated the wizarding bank, although they didn't particularly like the magical humans whose money and other valuables they were entrusted with to keep safe. That was odd. As they waited in line, Firo had an arm across Ennis' shoulders, while Czes stood close to them, somewhat nervously. He was only a few inches taller than the goblins, and they honestly made him uncomfortable.

Fidgeting somewhat as they waited, Firo saw a poem on a large sign. After reading through it a few times, he came to the conclusion that the way they dealt with potential thieves was very violent and deadly. Well, that was one way to prevent people from stealing stuff. Plus, there probably wouldn't even be need for a trial. It was actually pretty economic.

When their turn finally came, the goblin peered down at them from his teller's seat. He didn't even extend a greeting, as the creature went straight down to business. "How may I help you today," in a voice that seemed to be saying he'd much rather be doing anything else; like getting a root canal.

Firo held up the key to their vault. "We need to withdraw money,"

"Very well," the goblin reached out for the key. "Hand over the key."

The goblin turned slightly in his seat, and called out, "Griphook, please take these three to their vault."

The goblin called Griphook did not bother to extend a greeting either. He silently took the key and led them through a large door and into what looked sort of like a huge, hollowed-out, and dimly lit mine with numerous floors and to a metal cart that sat on a track. "Have a seat," he motioned as he sat near a wheel at the front of the cart. The trio complied, and no sooner had Firo sat down that they found themselves racing along the track downwards towards the location of their vault at a speed that made the Portkey feel like a leisurely stroll. Firo awkwardly had a death-grip on the side of the speeding cart, while Ennis had a white-knuckle grip on the seat and Czes simply stiffened in his place squished in between Firo and Ennis. Griphook seemed to enjoy this bit of misery from a witch and two wizards, because there was a hint of a smirk on his wrinkly, pointed face.

"May I ask how much longer?" Ennis flinched as the cart suddenly changed tracks without warning. The sensation of changing lanes actually felt and sounded like the cart had completely lifted off of the relative safety of the original track, and latched onto another completely separate track.

"We're actually going pretty deep," Griphook explained above the rattling of the cart on the tracks. There was a smirk on his face, confirming his twisted enjoyment of the terror his passengers were currently experiencing. "Vault 648, only Pure-Blooded wizarding families have vaults higher than 400! Your family actually opened an account with us a few decades ago! A secondary account was opened sometime last month – that was quite an interesting bit of business!"

Firo could probably guess just how many decades ago that was, but he didn't care to try at the moment, nor did he care about asking why the second account was 'interesting business'. He was too busy trying not to let the speed or the rocking of the cart get to him. Damn crazy natural born magic users and their horrendous traveling methods. When the cart finally stopped at Vault 648, Firo personally tried to act as casual as possible, without making it seem like he was thankful for the earth to be beneath his feet even if it was only for a few, precious minutes. He could tell by the look on Czes' face that he had another comment about how travel by goblin cart was the least desirable thing to be doing. Ennis quickly exited the cart, and decided to lean against one of the numerous stone pillars that supported the hundreds of outcroppings within the mine.

The goblin unlocked the vault, and Firo, Ennis and Czes did their best not to balk at all the gold that was packed almost to the ceiling in the vault. Firo quickly produced a small bag for the money that they needed, filling it with more than enough. He then pulled out a small mirror from his pocket and placed it in the vault. If any of them ever needed money at any time, they could simply mirror step into the vault to get it. Firo nodded to the goblin when he was through. Just how much money had the two Families given them?

A witch a few vaults down gave the three a scrutinizing gaze as she was waiting for her own vault to be opened. Firo felt as if the woman was questioning whether or not they had any right to be there. Whatever. Firo opted to ignore her, acting as if he didn't even notice her. Did these magic users honestly think that  _only_  their magical families had money? Of course, they had a vault located in the middle of a bunch of natural-born magical family vaults…and they weren't dressed in traditional robes. So of course, the questioning and judgmental glances were to be expected.

He and his little family simply piled back into the cart. After another harrowing trip back to the surface, they walked out of the bank as quickly as they could. They found another building that wasn't the bank and promptly leaned against its wall, waiting for their frazzled nerves to calm down.

"I can't believe they would even have such a crazy system!" Czes shook his head. "It was actually worse coming back up than it was going down! Next, they'll have us riding brooms!"

"If I actually have to resort getting somewhere by broom, I'm going to hex the person who suggests it." Firo was sure he was going to have a few words for McGonagall about wizarding methods of transport. If he hadn't been Immortal, Firo was sure he would've dropped dead of a heart-attack by now.

"Well, it  _was_ interesting." Ennis replied as she straightened herself. "I saw a dragon crawling around the bottom of the bank's mine. Admittedly, it wasn't a very good view, but I've always wanted to see one in person."

"Aw, I missed it!" Firo pouted.

"Maybe we'll get a chance to see another one?" Czes suggested. He had missed seeing the dragon as well, and was obviously disappointed.

"Maybe," Firo said hopefully.

"What should we do first?" Ennis asked, getting their attention back to the situation at hand. "There were numerous books on Ms. McGonagall's list of suggested reading, and you should select the necessary books for your classes; better sooner than later. Ms. McGonagall also suggested that we buy robes."

After a few minutes of debate, they decided to get their robes, and then whatever supplies Firo would need. Ennis questioned a local on where they would suggest buying robes, and the old witch happily directed them to  _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions,_ with the added, "My grandson has gone there for the past five years to get his Hogwarts uniform and whatever else he has needed!"

The shop had a very nice display of shop dummies wearing colorful robes in the window, along with various signs that reminded people the school year would be starting soon, and encouraged students to come in for their fittings. Other signs promised a percentage off of custom robes if a certain amount was spent.

A bell jingled upon their entering the shop, and in spite of its being small the shop definitely had high standards and promised quality. It had a very homey feel. Firo saw that there were even more robes on display inside the shop. Fitting dummies in one corner wore half-finished robes that were currently being worked on by quickly moving needles and thread that seemed to be moving as if being worked by invisible seamstresses.

Within minutes of their arrival, a squat witch dressed all in some sort of pleasantly purple color walked out of the back and smiled at them. "Hello! I'm Madam Malkin," she greeted in a sweet, grandmotherly way. "What do you need? I'm sure we have your size."

"Hey," Firo gave a slight wave and a smile. "We're in need of robes, and we heard that your shop was the best place to get them."

Malkin seemed flattered. "Well, I certainly don't like to brag, but my shop  _has_  provided students of Hogwarts with their robes for years. I've even had a few dignitaries make orders." Malkin studied them with interest. "If I may – are you Americans?"

"Yeah, I'm the new Defense teacher." Firo shrugged.

"Oh, my!" Malkin gasped. "And you're so young, you must be quite skilled. I'd heard that Dumbledore had hired a professor from America, but I certainly didn't expect one such as you. You're quite the fit young man, aren't you?" Malkin gave a little giggle at her last comment.

Firo only shrugged, not really understanding why she called him "fit", but he didn't really care to know. "The opportunity presented itself, and I took it."

"Of course, that's understandable." Malkin said. "Right then, dears, please step right this way, and I'll get your measurements. Who's first?"

"Ladies first," Firo said as he gave Ennis a gentle push.

Ennis stood on a small stool while a few tape measures flew around her rapidly measuring her height, arms, and whatever else was necessary to make the perfect robes for her. Although why the tapes felt the need to measure the length of her hair and even her fingernails, Firo couldn't be sure.

While Firo and Czes waited, the bell to the shop rung out, signaling that someone had entered the shop, although Firo didn't pay them any immediate attention as he was busy looking over the offered designs of the robes. Madam Malkin quickly delivered the other customer's order before turning back to Ennis. The other customer left as quickly as they had come.

After all of them had been measured and their robes picked out, they went on to the various bookstores to find out what was available for Firo's classes. The first was  _Flourish and Blotts,_  a place that was filled with leather-bound books from floor to ceiling. Ennis looked as if she wanted to grab all the books she could carry and start reading right there. She very well would have, and Firo would've happily let her; but they had a lot to prepare for.

They ended up grabbing various books about magic for each of the wizarding grades, history books about Britain's magical world, a history book about Hogwarts, along with all the books Firo believed he would be using for his classes. When Firo saw a particular book about alchemy written by a man named Nicolas Flamel, he quickly grabbed it for their collection. Because he wanted to be prepared for when he selected his course books, Firo asked the store-owner if there were any enchanted mailboxes nearby. The store-owner only looked confused.

Apparently, enchanted mailboxes were exclusive to America, with Europe being left out of the magical advancement, as the store-owner had no idea what Firo was talking about. The man had thought that Firo was asking about messenger owls. That was definitely something to inquire about later.

After going to the other available book stores and making their selection, Firo figured they should at least get an owl to make their lives easier. After asking another local, they were told to either check out  _Eeylops Owl Emporium_  or  _Magical Menagerie_. They decided to try out the latter first, simply because it was closer. As they entered, a young woman happily welcomed them above the noise. The place smelled and was extremely loud with the mix of all of the strange creatures' vocal pandemonium.

As soon as Firo saw the ravens in the corner, he grinned. "I would like one of those ravens, please."

"Of course!" the young woman was enthusiastic. "Which one would you like?"

Firo selected the biggest one. The woman quickly grabbed a cage and put the raven inside of it, cooing at the bird the entire time.

"Really?" Czes questioned under his breath. Firo merely grinned.

"So, you're foreigners then? American, if I'm not mistaken." she asked as she placed the now caged raven on the counter. "What brings you here?"

"I'm the new Defense teacher," Firo replied.

"Oh! How wonderful! I bet Professor Dumbledore was very excited to have you teach at Hogwarts. He's a firm believer in diversity, and having you teach there certainly opens a lot of doors."

"That's what people have been telling me. Honestly, it's good to hear." Firo smiled. This old man certainly had a lot of pull, along with the fact that so many people seemed to respect and adore him.

"Oh, hello," Ennis said, bending down to pet an odd-looking cat that was rubbing up against her leg. It could have been described as a very large cat or a small panther.

"Oh, she's taken quite the shine to you!" the shop owner exclaimed. "A Kneazle makes an excellent pet if they like you."

"She certainly is…beautiful…" Ennis said, gently picking up the creature and cradling it in her arms. Loud purring could be heard from the Kneazle, easily rivaling that of the collective noise in the shop.

"You want her, Ennis?" Firo questioned.

"…I've never had a pet before." Ennis stated simply. She glanced at Firo appreciatively. "I believe I will take her."

"Very well then!" the shop owner smiled enthusiastically. "You actually need a license to have one, so I'll draw it up for you right now. Because you're spending over 150 Galleons, I will give you a discount on their accessories and food. I'll also include a handbook for Kneazle care."

After buying their pets, they went back to the  _Leaky Cauldron_ and straight up to their room. The next few hours was filled with each of them reading various books and taking a break from reading to share what they had learned from their books. The Kneazle now called 'Vesper', settled into Ennis' lap, content. The raven now called 'Buio' – which wasn't a very imaginative name in Czes' opinion – sat on top of his cage and suspiciously eyed everyone in the room, especially Vesper.

It was nearly six hours later that they ended up going downstairs a little after dinnertime had started in order to eat something, even though it wasn't necessary. The only reason they did this was to avoid suspicion. It would have seemed strange to anyone who paid any amount of attention that the foreigners never ate anything. Czes didn't exactly like pumpkins, but he begrudgingly settled for the available pumpkin juice. It seemed that their options for drinks were rather limited.

No one disturbed them as they ate their food in peace, although there was the occasional curios glance and inquiring whisper, before the trio went back to being ignored. As the days passed, Firo's presence was old news and now the other magic users extended greetings and even started up conversations with him and his family. It certainly was a welcome change from having people whisper behind their backs.

After delving into numerous books about defending oneself against the Dark Arts, Firo sent off a rather extensive book list for his classes to the old man using Buio. The lack of an enchanted mailbox was rather annoying, but having a messenger raven wasn't so bad. The alchemy book that Firo had been itching to read since he first laid eyes on it was quickly grabbed up, and Firo flopped down onto the bed. Vesper who had been asleep woke up briefly and rolled over onto her back, inviting Firo to scratch her stomach. Firo absentmindedly complied as he opened the cover to the first page and began to read.

_**oo~*~*O*~*~oo** _

_1957_

… _With a polite nod of her head, Minerva said, "Have a good rest of your day, gentlemen. I will see you tomorrow. 6 p.m."_

_She was out the door again, leaving behind a group of very confused wizards._

Minerva ran back into the alley beside the odd wizards' bar, and ducked between two other buildings just across from the bar. She quickly made sure that no one would be able to see her, and with a deep breath and a lot of concentration, Minerva Apparated to 7th and 10th where she subtly popped into another alley. She nearly tripped over a Muggle who was sitting on the ground, and Minerva fought against the gagging sensation that came upon her as the combined stench of alcohol and urine wafted over her.

"An angel from Heaven!" the Muggle looked at her with wide-eyes, his wrinkled features covered in matted hair. He slurred as he continued speaking, "I saw you appear, just like that!" he swung his head back as he took a large drink of alcohol, not caring that almost half of it dribbled down onto his front.

The few people who actually acknowledged the man either looked at him with pity or disgust, while others created a wide berth between themselves and the homeless man. There were wards up that prevented Muggles from coming into this particular alley, but the wards obviously did nothing to a man who was too intoxicated to even notice them. Minerva studied the man for a moment as he continued talking about angels, none of it making any sense – even less so as he continued. She decided against Obliviating the man, as his mind was already too far gone and she didn't want to add to it.

When Minerva stepped out of the alley, she heard the man shout after her, "Fly away and be free!"

A few minutes later, Minerva found her American Auror partner Anna Silverholt nervously pacing back and forth outside of a coffee shop, wringing her hands. Anna was only a few inches taller than Minerva was, and was almost a decade older. In the short time she had been in New York, Minerva and Anna had developed a friendship based on respect and admiration, along with the fact that they were somewhat similar in their beliefs, although their personalities tended to be quite the opposite at times. Honestly, Minerva had come to see the woman as somewhat of an older sibling, although there were times when the young Auror felt like she was the older sibling because Anna had a tendency to be flighty.

"Anna!" Minerva made her presence known, and within seconds she found herself in a bone-crushing hug.

"Minerva!" Anna pulled away, although she didn't let go, as Anna had a grip on Minerva's shoulders. "Why do you smell like smoke? What happened to you?! Why weren't you here? Why didn't you let me know-"

"Everything's fine." Minerva said slowly, in an attempt to appease Anna. Minerva then realized she didn't exactly have an excuse as to why she was so late. She had even forgotten that she smelled like those wizards' distasteful habit. With a mental sigh that was thoroughly cringe-inducing in her opinion, she figured that every lie held a grain of truth. "I was caught by the rain and stopped at a pub. There were a few wizards there and we ended up talking for quite a while, and I do admit I'm at fault for losing track of time…our conversation was very interesting."

Anna looked doubtful. "Was this a rogue…you-know?"

"No, they weren't." As far as Minerva knew, that was the truth.

"Alright then," Anna looked relieved, then thoughtful. "You'll have to tell me what was so interesting in your conversation with them for it take up your time like that." Anna turned on her heels. "We might as well get back to Headquarters," Anna sighed heavily, and Minerva followed after her as she started walking the four blocks towards the New York Branch's entrance. "We have to give our reports…oh, Merlin's beard…" she shook her head as she continued. "Or lack thereof. The Minister isn't going to be very happy that our investigation  _once again_  hit a dead-end." Anna shook her head again, frowning. Turning to Minerva and with a harsh whisper, muttered, "This awful business with rogue wizards, or dark wizards or whatever is giving me such a headache!"

Minerva bit her lip, and only nodded.

Her whole reason for coming to this part of America had been because of reports of wizards possibly operating outside of wizarding laws, and because the American Ministry had been at a loss, they had begrudgingly come to the British Ministry for assistance. Roughly 26 years ago, odd events plagued New York for about six months before suddenly cutting off. Things like a warehouse burning down with traces of magic as the source, people who were plagued by 'spirits' who broke their possessions and wares indiscriminately, cars that suddenly stopped running for no apparent reason, the occasional street vendor having their wares suddenly 'pop' as if they were inflated by internal balloons; all cases pointed to use of accidental or irresponsible use of magic. Yet, no one could find the witches or wizards responsible, so the obvious next guess was wizards operating outside of the law. The case continued to become more and more confusing, as there had been reports of magic, and evidence it had been used, yet they couldn't identify the spells or the culprits responsible. Muggles had claimed to witness paranormal events that clearly pointed to magic.

Although there were reports of the occasional odd event; Muggle newspapers were describing the events as 'hauntings', along with various conspiracy theories that involved other countries of the world. These events were happening within various areas of New York – particularly Little Italy; the area Minerva had been in not even five minutes earlier. But that was a little detail she would be keeping to herself – for now. Minerva now knew why, or least thought that she did, as to why the New York Branch was having such a difficult time. The magic those strange wizards possessed was its own unique form.

Other odd events involved Muggles both men and women of varying ages being indisputably deathly terrified of going to certain parts of the city – mainly parts of Manhattan and especially Little Italy – for seemingly no reason at all. What really got the New York Branch's attention was when a few wizards with questionable morals and affiliations had the very same thing happen to them. Not even memory recollection spells or powerful potions could help them recall how or why they forgot, and why they couldn't – and wouldn't enter Manhattan – literally kicking and screaming as they blatantly refused. The New York Branch could only theorize that it was a powerful form of the Obliviate spell, unlike anything any one of them had ever heard or seen the likes of before. Minerva recalled seeing Maiza use such a spell.

The pair of witches finally reached their destination; which was a seemingly innocuous phone booth with a faded 'out of order' sign attached to the front located in the back of a magically twisted alleyway between two Muggle apartment buildings. That wouldn't have been so bad, except for the fact that the Muggles used the alley's entrance to throw away all of their trash. Minerva made a face as she stepped over a trash bag that had a stench wafting off of it and something sticky-looking was smeared all over the plastic exterior. The fact that it had been rained on and allowed to fester for the past few days certainly didn't help.

Numerous wards and charms were on the alleyway; so Muggles kept out, and simply didn't question the rundown phone booth or why people would come and go in and out of a place that didn't have an opening to the next street over. Since there was a very particular spell on the alley that prevented enemies from finding the New York Branch easily, Anna led the way. The spell caused there to be a sort of pattern that corresponded to the days of the week, along with how many right or left turns that a person had to take in order to get where they wanted to go. As a result, locating the phone booth was very difficult, if the numerous stories about people getting lost only to find themselves back at the entrance were any indication.

Finally, the phone booth came into view, in all of its derelict glory. Anna pushed open the door, which let out a cringe-worthy squeak. They both stepped into the phone booth and Minerva shut the door behind them. Anna quickly dialed '637546', and after giving off an odd ringing sound, the phone booth shuddered. A few minutes later, a clear  _*ding*_ rang out, so Minerva opened the squeaky door, revealing a large office where numerous witches and wizards were working.

"Let's get this over with…" Anna muttered, obviously frustrated, and not wanting to come back basically empty-handed like everyone else had been for months.

As they approached the office of the Minister, Minerva was taking slow, deep breaths. She was a firm believer in her convictions, although a few questions raced through her mind; the annoyingly nagging sort that caused a person to question themselves. Those wizards genuinely seemed to be determined to avoid trouble if at all possible. What would the Ministry do to them if they found out about the odd magic? They seemed like genuinely decent people, given their profession. If the American Ministry came after them, what would those wizards do? They would defend themselves of course, but to what extent? How far would either side go? They had wanted to learn what they could from her, yet all of it had been in a none-threatening way. Would they come after  _her_ if the American Ministry deemed them as threats?

Oh, Merlin…

Minerva quickly took a deep breath and let it out slowly before the thoughts overwhelmed her and could successfully place a seed of doubt in her mind. She herself had already determined that she wanted to learn more about the wizards before coming to any sort of final decision. Anna continued talking away about not having evidence, being annoyed by the weird magic and rogue wizards, oblivious to Minerva's inward plight.

Anna knocked on the door of the Minister's office before entering, and even though he was getting on in years and needed a cane to walk, he rose from his seat momentarily. "Ladies,"

"Hello, Minister Bingham, Mary-Bell" Anna greeted the man and his secretary. She then went into her report with gusto, and had to report her findings, or lack thereof. Minister Bingham looked so disappointed; Anna might as well have told him that all of America's biggest holidays were being canceled.

Minerva shifted momentarily in place as hopeful eyes landed on her.

Minerva cleared her throat before she began. With a thought for Merlin to forgive her, she began. "I was in the Little Italy area of Manhattan, yet found nothing. I stopped by an old bar where I interviewed a few wizards, and from my estimation…they know nothing about the rogue wizards."

"You're sure that none of these wizards are operating outside of the law?" Minister Bingham inquired wearily.

"Positive," Minerva answered firmly.

"Of course, it's almost to be expected at this point…" Minister Bingham sighed upon hearing the news.

After talking to the Minister for a few minutes longer, the pair of witches left. Minerva wasn't feeling very hungry, so she simply went back to her hotel. She had a lot to think about, and 6 p.m. tomorrow was fast approaching, and Minerva almost didn't fall asleep that night thinking about all the things that were going on within the Ministry, along with the peculiar wizards.

_*o*o*o*_

Minerva arrived at the bar the next evening at precisely 5:58 p.m. Personally, Minerva was a firm believer in 'if you aren't early, you're late.' She sighed, as she had been afraid she wouldn't be able to make it in time due to Anna fretting over her not being hungry a second evening in a row. It had taken some convincing and a promise that she would eat something to finally give Anna some peace.

Minerva entered the bar, noticing that there were less people here today than there had been yesterday. Allen was sitting on the counter of the bar looking at a magazine as he smoked a cigarette, looking entirely uninterested in whatever he was reading. At a table by the bar, Maiza and all three of the Gandor brother sat with an older gentleman that Minerva didn't recognize.

"Good evening, gentlemen." she greeted casually.

"You're back!" Allen said happily, quickly hopping down from the bar and depositing his cigarette in an ashtray. "Would you like anything?"

"Some tea would be nice, and if it's not too much trouble, I did promise my friend I would eat dinner. If you have any kind of soup, that would be lovely. Thank you."

"Got it," Allen tossed his magazine onto the counter and disappeared into the kitchen as he went to prepare Minerva's dinner, seeming a bit too eager. "Hope minestrone is alright,"

"That would be fine," Minerva said thankfully. At least Anna wouldn't be fretting over her. She felt as if Allen was sincerely relieved at her arrival, because the man looked more eager than a house-elf wanting to satisfy their master.

Maiza rose from his seat and walked over to her, saying, "Welcome back, Ms. Minerva. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks…yourself, Mr. Avaro?"

"Busy. Things have been very interesting since our conversation yesterday. Here, I want you to meet someone." Maiza directed Minerva over to the table. The man rose as they approached. "Minerva McGonagall, this is Don Molsa Martillo. Don Molsa, this is Minerva, the natural-born magic user from yesterday."

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. McGonagall." the Don greeted, a genuine smile on his features. He reminded her of a kindly grandfather. "Please, sit."

Minerva did just that.

She glanced curiously at Don Molsa. He was an older gentleman with almost-white hair. He seemed friendly enough, although Minerva could feel an odd sort of magic radiating off of him…it made her feel…almost afraid. It was different from anything she had felt before. For a moment, she could have sworn she felt hot breath on the back of her neck, before the sensation and the radiating magic stopped. She felt as if she tried anything, she'd be dead at the hands of Don Molsa…but as quickly as the sensation came, it disappeared.

"Sorry about that," Don Molsa apologized genuinely. "My…eh, wand tends to have a mind of his own, and he doesn't always take too well to strangers." Don Molsa took a sip of wine from a glass sitting in front of him. "I've heard many very interesting things about you from Maiza. I'm also curious about this creature that had," he glanced at the others with amusement, "these fine gentlemen here in a situation that caused a bit of panic and confusion. What did you call it…a Patronus?"

Minerva nodded, relaxed now. She noticed how Don Molsa also called his wand a 'he'…she wanted to get to her own line of questioning, but decided to wait for now, at least.

"Yes," Minerva stood, reaching into her pocket for her wand. "It's the most difficult spell known to wizardkind. A Patronus is a spirit guardian of sorts that usually takes the form of the animal the user shares the deepest affinity with – thus you will never know what animal your Patronus will take unless you succeed in casting the spell. It's unique to every witch and wizard, and is powered by the happiest memory that you have." Minerva closed her eyes in concentration, thinking of the happiest moments in her life. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and called out,  _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A silvery-white mist shot out of Minerva's wand, and a cat formed. The cat raced around the room for a few minutes before dispersing, seeing as Minerva gave it no command and there was no immediate threat.

"What an incredible creature," Don Molsa marveled.

"That was amazing!" Allen admired as he brought over Minerva's dinner and set it on the table. He hopped up on the bar again, lit up another cigarette and turned all of his attention to Minerva.

"So that was a Patronus…" Luck said thoughtfully.

Pocketing her wand then sitting back down, Minerva smoothed out her dress then prepared her tea exactly how she liked it. "If I may ask gentlemen…" she gave a few quick stirs to her tea, she continued, "I have a few questions of my own that I would like to have answered, if you don't mind."

All eyes of the men fell on Maiza, so Minerva followed suite.

"I'll try to answer what I can-if I can…" Maiza stated, leaning forward on the table.

"Splendid," Minerva replied. "If you could, would you please tell me more about your magic? I'm curious about it. It is truly unique…" Minerva put a finger to her chin in thought. "Why are the spells in Italian? Why don't you have knowledge of witches and wizards and why is it such a surprise that people can be born with the ability to use magic? This begs the question of  _how_  and  _why_  you can perform magic." She looked to Maiza, as it was apparent the other men present had tasked him as the one to answer her questions. "That's only a  _few_  of the questions that I have for you."

For now, she would wait to ask them about unwittingly Obliviating other wizards, and would use her own judgement to deem whether or not they would be potential threats. It would be terrible if a war of some kind started between these wizards and the American Ministry.

Maiza chuckled. "Those are some very interesting questions."

Glancing up at the ceiling in thought, Maiza responded, "The spells are in Italian because it's an 'interesting language', at least, that was the reason given. We don't have knowledge of natural-born magic users because we had no reason to believe otherwise – none of us ever really considered the fact that someone could be  _born_  with the ability; simply because it was supposedly gifted to you."

Minerva studied him carefully. "Gifted? How do you mean?"

"Well…" Maiza was thinking carefully. "Years ago, I was an Alchemist."

He stated it as if that explained everything, but of course, it didn't. If anything, it caused confusion and even more questions.

"Alchemy?" Minerva questioned incredulously. "What does alchemy have to do…hold on…you said gifted," Maiza nodded, "and that you were an Alchemist?"

Minerva took a polite spoonful of her soup. It was delicious, although the entirety of its flavors was currently lost on her at the moment.

"Alchemy played a large part," Maiza's expression showed something akin to sadness or guilt…maybe both? But then the expression was gone, as if it had never been there. "Alchemy was how we got our magic."

"What…" Minerva tried to process that bit of information. "H-how do you mean alchemy was…how…you…" _How_  would  _alchemy_  gift  _anyone_  with  _magical abilities?_  But that didn't make  _any_  sense! The young Auror's knowledge about the art was admittedly limited, but she knew for certain, that  _wasn't_  how alchemy worked!

Minerva paused mid-sentence. She mentally did a double-take. They thought that magic was  _gifted_  to a person; as in a literal gift. They had been  _given_  their magic. These men…no…it was impossible! How in Merlin's name?! The realization almost made Minerva swoon in her seat. These men are…no,  _had_  been  _Muggles._

_**oo~*~*O*~*~oo** _

_1995_

Firo spent much of his time reading the alchemy book, carefully studying the text, only to come up confused most of the time. The alchemy this Flamel guy used was completely different from what Maiza and the others had done. When Firo reached the section on how to make the Grand Panacea, he made a face because he honestly couldn't decide whether he should laugh or be grossed out. In reality, the book didn't exactly state  _how_  to make it, but simply listed the ingredients for the best results. To his knowledge, only a few of the ingredients listed were what was used in the Panacea he and the other Immortals had drunk.

With a heavy sigh mostly due to weariness from just about non-stop research, Firo stood and stretched.

"You alright, Firo?" Czes asked, clearly looking for any excuse to not read another word from the book in his hands.

"Yeah," Firo replied as he stretched the muscles in his shoulders. A part of Firo felt sorry for Czes, because to the world he looked like any other ten-year-old boy. Because of that, Czes was often not allowed to go places without having an adult with him. It seemed that people here suspected that an unsupervised child – especially one with a wand, was very likely up to no good. As a result, either Firo or Ennis had to be with him; not that either of them minded of course. It honestly annoyed Firo that these magic users wouldn't give the kid credit that he wasn't going to go around pranking people or causing trouble.

Natural-born magic-using bastards.

After stretching, Firo sat down at the simple desk in their room and positioned a mirror about as big as a normal picture frame in front of him. Ennis made sure to soundproof the room with a quick spell in case anyone tried to listen in.  _"S_ _tanza: tacere all'esterno,"_

He gave the mirror a few taps on the upper right-hand corner. The surface of the mirror swirled into a milky white.

" _What the hell do you want?"_ a cranky voice demanded.  _"You look awful by the way."_

"I don't need a mirror to tell me that," Firo replied, not really wanting to deal with the mirror. This new magical technology that they were now using for communication was useful; but was headache-inducing if the marble they used ended up being as miserly as the one Firo had the misfortune of using. "Can you call Maiza?" Just in case, Firo added a "Please."

" _Since you asked as nicely as you could muster, I suppose I could call the old codger."_  The mirror's surface turned an inky black, and a faraway ringing could be heard. The surface swirled for a few seconds longer before the image of Maiza appeared, and Firo was pleasantly surprised to see Ronnie and the Gandor brothers there as well.

"Hey everyone!" Firo greeted, genuinely glad to see them.

"Hello," Ennis greeted.

"Hey Maiza!" Czes grinned.

"Why, hello Firo." Ronnie said casually from over Maiza's shoulder before the man could answer. "How are you liking England? From my personal experiences, it's either been unbearably hot, miserably rainy, or horrendously cold."

"We're in the middle of a heatwave right now, although they say it's going to get cold within the coming weeks." Firo waved his hand.

"Everything is alright, I hope?" Maiza asked, his gentle smile unwavering.

"Yeah, it's all good." Firo nodded. "I just wanted to show you this," he held up the book.

Ronnie gave a low whistle. "Nicolas Flamel? Now that's a name I haven't heard in centuries,"

"It's an alchemy book, and to be honest a lot of it goes over my head at times," Firo admitted, "Because it's a different form of alchemy, just like how our magic is different from natural-born magic users. In the book, he talks about making the Grand Panacea," Firo explained as he opened the book to that particular section.

Maiza made a face, probably one of concern. "What…what does it say?"

"Basically, that it's a cure-all and that it prolongs life indefinitely. And…" Firo cleared his throat as he read a paragraph of the chapter. "'…the constitutes of the perfect medicine are Vinegar, Salt… _ah-hem_ …Urine, Sal Ammoniac and a particular Sulphur Vive.'"

A few seconds of silence passed between them before Ronnie broke it as he burst into laughter, barely able to form coherent words. "S-surely – they – they _can't_ be – ha, ha – serious!"

"…Urine? How disgusting can they get?" Berga made a face of revulsion, then one of realization. He turned to Maiza and Ronnie, demanding, "You didn't give us any damn _piss_ did you?!"

" _No!"_ Maiza quickly defended.

Ronnie continued in his mirth, and then took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "Those wizards are very interesting. There are a few ingredients missing, but I promise you that bodily fluids _are not_ one of them."

"To be honest," Firo said as he didn't even try to hide his enjoyment of an irate Berga, "the alchemy here doesn't seem to be very popular. Somewhere in one of the many books we've read, alchemy is very nearly a dying art. Kids at school can learn about it, but there actually has to be enough of a demand from the students to even have the class as an option. Even then, they have to find an actual Alchemist to teach the class."

"Interesting, what other subjects does the book cover?" Maiza questioned.

"Let's see… It's considered to be a branch of magic; not a science, although there are elements of it." Firo went back to the beginning of the book to read off the table of contents. "There's chapters devoted to how to make gold and silver, various medicines as it's also a branch of potion-making, and there's even this small section talking about how to make a thing called the Philosopher's Stone that also produces the Elixir of Life."

Ronnie's eyes narrowed and his voice came out flat. "Does it now?"

Firo curiously eyed the Demon. "Ronnie?"

"What does it say about making a Stone?" Ronnie asked firmly.

"Uh, well…" Firo turned to the section about the Stone. Looking it over, he shook his head. "It just talks about using a powerful essence as the source, a few alchemical circles…but I honestly don't understand them as I'm not familiar with this kind…why do you ask?"

"The key ingredient for a Philosopher's Stone is Human lives." he explained simply. "It's the only way to truly bypass all the laws that nature and even magic itself has set in place. Honestly, wizards are small-minded when it comes to this sort of thing. Turning metal into gold? Extracting the Elixir of Life? In the right hands, it can be used as a weapon that makes some of your most deadly spells look like a light show."

Ennis gripped Firo's shoulder. "I read that they supposedly made one, but I didn't think that…"

"They  _made_  one?!" Ronnie's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Those bastards…" Firo couldn't help himself.

"So people…how many?" Czes questioned.

"The book said  _'supposedly'…_ " Ennis tried to point out, although fruitlessly; because Ronnie had basically taken charge of their conversation.

"It would depend on how powerful you want the Stone to actually be. A few dozen can do the job easily enough; although hundreds, even thousands guarantee the best results." Ronnie responded, looking disgusted.

Maiza looked like he was thinking. "If they made a Stone, where would it be now?"

Wait a minute…Firo paused, thinking about something that Ronnie had said just moments ago. He was about to ask, when Ennis started speaking.

"I didn't read anything about – " Ennis was cut off when there was rapid knocking at the door.

"Mr. Prochainezo? Are you in there?" a woman's voice asked.

"Sounds like that Minerva woman," Firo stood and walked over to the door. He slowly opened it, and sure enough Minerva McGonagall was standing there. "Hello, Ms. Minerva…I didn't think we'd be seeing you until the start of term."

"Actually…may I come in?" McGonagall looked anxious.

Firo opened the door wider, allowing her to enter. As soon as the door clicked shut, McGonagall began.

"This is  _outrageous!"_  Minerva fumed. "Absolutely detestable!" the Deputy Headmistress truly looked as if she was on her last nerve, but she pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Turning to Firo, now composed. "It's an emergency, I'm sorry to ask this of you Mr. Prochainezo, but could you contact Maiza right away-"

"Hello, Minerva." Maiza's voice greeted.

McGonagall gasped and spun to face the source. "What in Merlin's name…a mirror?" Giving a quick shake of her head, probably to get her mind back on track, she said, "I apologize for asking this of you on such short notice, but would you gentlemen mind coming to England right away? Something has come up."

Maiza looked to the others that were with him, and they nodded. "Give us a few minutes," Maiza said, and the mirror turned black for about a second before turning a milky white.

" _Do you make it a habit of interrupting people's conversations or are you just that inconsiderate?"_ the mirror demanded of McGonagall, who gasped at the talking mirror.  _"Wrinkled old bag."_

"Hey!" Firo objected.

" _If I had any fingers, I'd be giving you the middle one."_

The mirror stopped talking as the surface started glowing green, and floated above the desktop. McGonagall stared, completely fascinated. To someone witnessing mirror travel for the first time, it had to be an amazing sight. Depending on the mirror size, it basically looked as if a person was growing out of the mirror; starting small and slowly getting bigger as they stepped through. Firo could only describe it as "comically stepping through a doorway." On the receiving end, it actually sort of looked like those old cartoons where about twenty clowns climbed out of an impossibly small car that a normal person could never fit inside of.

Maiza, Ronnie and the Gandor brothers all stepped through, and Maiza who was coming through last pulled his arm out of the mirror, his own mirror in his hand. Firo's mirror gently floated back down to the desk, and said,  _"Well, now that the old man and the goons are here, I can go back to sleep. Good bye."_

The mirror immediately went to sleep, as indicated by the fact it was now a normal-looking mirror.

"How truly fascinating," McGonagall admired the mirrors. "While I would love to learn more about them and would love to chat over a cup of tea, we have somewhere to be."

She pulled out a piece of parchment from her cloak, saying, "Read this and commit it to memory."

The parchment read:  _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London._

After making sure they all knew what was written on the parchment, McGonagall destroyed it with a quick fire spell. "There's a fireplace here we can use. Let's be quick about it."

They followed her to the storage room, and the five newcomers were obviously eyeing the large cobwebs that covered every surface a spider was willing to spin its web. Firo noticed a rather abnormally large house spider that was a little bigger than his fist, but ignored it as he had to pay attention to McGonagall.

"Take a pinch of Floo and clearly state where you want to go, and toss the Floo into the fireplace and step through. Come along now," McGonagall took the required Floo in hand, and stated, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London," and stepped through in a flash of green.

"Maiza," Ronnie put his hand on the man's shoulder. "When the chance comes, we need to ask her about the Stone. I know she's your friend and are doing her a favor, but we've learned from experience that the worst of our enemies are often guised as friends."

"What makes you think  _she_  knows anything about some damn Stone?" Berga questioned, brows furrowed.

"The woman works for a powerful and influential know-it-all, Berga; along with the fact that Hogwarts is one of the most mysterious and most protected schools in all of Britain." Ronnie reasoned. "A man like Dumbledore would make it his mission to know where a Stone would be located."

Maiza sighed. "Alright," clearly, he wasn't looking forward to having the conversation with McGonagall.

"I think you just have trust issues, Ronnie." Luck sniped somewhat coldly to the Demon. Out of all of them, excluding the Demon himself, Luck was the best at judging someone's character – and he didn't need some mind-reading spell to help him do it. If he deemed Minerva trustworthy, then dammit she was someone who wouldn't betray them in any way, shape, or form.

Keith glared at Ronnie with a look that clearly said that he thought Ronnie was wrong about McGonagall. He didn't have to even say anything to indicate how irritated he was; in fact, dark purple-black colored magic started to radiate off of his form.

"Let's just get this over with,  _please."_  Ennis quickly took over, shoving the Floo Powder urn somewhat forcefully into Keith's chest, successfully distracting him from unwittingly casting some sort of wand-less hex on Ronnie. Turning to the Demon, Ennis once again emphasized on the 'supposedly' part on the creation of the Philosopher's Stone.

What did an old Stone matter anyway? It didn't seem that it was being used, if it even existed anymore at all. Silently, Firo cursed Ronnie for planting the tiniest seed of doubt in his mind.

"…Well…" Maiza began uncertainly. "I guess it's our turn."

They repeated exactly as McGonagall had done, and stepped through in flash of green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buio – Dark in Italian
> 
> Spells –
> 
> Firo's Spell –
> 
> Finestra, aperta – Window, open
> 
> Ennis' Spell –
> 
> Finestra, chiusa – Window, shut
> 
> Stanza: tacere all'esterno – Room: be silent to the outside
> 
> Minerva's Spell –
> 
> Expecto Patronum – I await a protector


	5. In Spite of the Odds, Chaos and Order Join Together in Hopeful Anticipation of Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /Wands speaking/

_1995_

0000

Sirius Black certainly wasn't in the best of moods; surely people couldn't blame him! Having received word that his precious godson had been attacked by Dementors, the boy being at risk of losing his wand, along with the fact he hadn't been able to contact Harry the entire summer. Sirius was letting people know exactly how annoyed he was. Unfortunately, one Severus Snape was on the receiving end of Sirius' annoyance and insults.

Sirius had another  _Snivellus_ insult at the ready, when he was interrupted by the familiar green flash of Floo powder emitting from the fireplace. McGonagall emerged, landing on her feet with all the experience years of Floo travel had given her. However, the people who followed after her a few minutes later obviously had little to no experience with Floo travel if at all.

A young boy who appeared to be no less than ten years old ungracefully tumbled out of the fireplace, and shakily stood, muttering under his breath as he did so. He yelped as a young man tumbled into him, followed by a young woman. The couple appeared to be dazed, although they quickly pulled themselves up and grabbed the boy just as a bespectacled man appeared. Any slower and the young boy would have been flattened a second time. The bespectacled man stumbled, almost losing his glasses. He quickly moved to the side, recomposing himself as he did so.

Three more green flashes showed that more people were arriving – just how many more people would be coming? All Sirius really knew was what Dumbledore had told the Order Members; McGonagall had old wizarding friends from whom she would be requesting assistance, as she believed they would join the Order – and that they were American. That and the fact they had "particular talents" that would be beneficial to their cause. Whatever that meant.

Of the three new arrivals, only one tall man easily landed on his feet. He easily stepped to the side, while the other two pulled themselves up, obviously looking as if this was their first experience with Floo travel. One of the men cursed as a large form fell out of the fireplace and on top of him.

"Shit, Berga!" the man struggled from underneath the much larger 'Berga,' who was groaning miserably. "Get off of me!"

"It's not like I could control where I landed, you know!" Berga muttered defensively as he shakily pulled himself up.

Sirius and Remus both hid a smile as Molly frowned disapprovingly at the man's cursing. It really must be a mum thing. As far as "normal" mothers went, Sirius supposed.

The only one of the strange new arrivals to land successfully on his feet smirked, somewhat oddly, obviously enjoying the pair's predicament. "Well, that was graceful." His smooth voice sent shivers up Sirius' spine, but he couldn't place why. Oddly, the shivers were reminiscent of how the unearthly howls of Dementors made him feel during his stay in Azkaban. Sirius shook his head. That was ridiculous.

Sirius happened to glance at McGonagall, who…looked  _amused?_  Since when did Minerva McGonagall of all people, look  _amused?_

"Shut the hell up, Ronnie." The smaller man was obviously agitated as he was glaring at 'Ronnie.' Ronnie scoffed indifferently. Sirius felt as if an argument had gone on between the two, judging by the former's attitude. Or maybe they simply didn't get along. It wasn't really any of his business or concern, anyway.

McGonagall was glancing curiously between them, so it was clearly a surprise to her. Fight it was, then. Quirking an eyebrow, she glanced from the two to the bespectacled man, who only mouthed something to her. Responding with a nod, she turned to Berga.

Berga shot a fierce glare at McGonagall, and pointed an accusing finger at her. "What the hell, Minerva?! Who in their right mind would actually think traveling by," he motioned with a dramatic wave of his hand indicating the fireplace,  _"this,_  was actually a good idea?!"

"We've done it for a few hundred years, Berga." McGonagall actually looked humored. Sirius was becoming more and more curious as to who these people were and how McGonagall knew them. They were definitely Yanks; crass and crude. Not that he was really one to talk. And since when did  _Minerva McGonagall_  of all people, look so bloody cheerful? It was almost disconcerting, to be honest. The others sitting at the table were equally curious, as they observed the events folding out before them.

"Certainly, if an old woman like me can handle it, then I'm sure a man such as  _you_  will be absolutely fine." McGonagall replied smartly, and a few snorts of muffled laughter came from the other new arrivals. Speaking of old people and new arrivals…Sirius felt that none of them appeared to be  _that_  old, not really anyway.

"Ooohh, the granny's got you there, Berga," the young man who was one half of the couple said with a smirk. A few Order members had looks of shock at the young man's casual attitude concerning McGonagall. Sirius smirked. The boy certainly had wit.

Berga glared at the smirking young man, but another of the new arrivals spoke up – the one Berga had fallen on top of when he came out of the fireplace.

"Ah, unfortunately I must agree." his voice was somber as he continued. "Even your wife could outmatch you, and she doesn't even need her wand to do it."

Berga now glared at the one who had spoken, and he huffed as he gestured at their dirty clothing. "It's not like any of you bastards did any better!"

"Not disagreeing I see," was the smart reply.

"Oh, come  _on!"_  Berga was exasperated. "Do you  _want_  me to give you pink hair, Luck? Because you know I  _can_  and I  _will!"_

Tonks tried not to look slighted with her own hot pink locks while Moony and Sirius were among the few to look at the Metamorphmagus and chuckle. Before things could get any more out of hand, McGonagall cleared her throat and spoke up in her usual authoritative tone.

"Everyone," the men stopped their bickering as soon as she spoke, and McGonagall motioned to each in turn, "these are the Gandor brothers; Keith, Berga and Luck."

Out of the three men, only Luck smiled. Keith and Berga merely scowled, although they both gave a subtle, polite nod of their heads in greeting while removing their hats. Then, she introduced Maiza Avaro, Ronnie Schiatto, Firo and Ennis Prochainezo, and her brother Czeslaw Meyer.

"They are the good friends of mine from America that I believe Professor Dumbledore informed you would be coming. Oh, and before I forget, Mr. Prochainezo here is also the new Defense professor."

There was a collective gasp from nearly everyone in the room.

"Oh, my! But you're so young!" Molly stated in pleasant surprise.

"Heh, so I've heard." the young professor replied dryly, forcing a polite smile. He probably had been hearing the same thing over and over since his arrival. Sirius swore he heard Snivellus mutter his displeasure under his breath. Sirius so desperately wanted to make another  _Snivellus_ comment, but Arthur interrupted before he could say a word. Oh, well. Sirius would make sure to store it away for later. It was a good one.

"Hello there, I'm Arthur, Arthur Weasley." he quickly shook their hands. "That's quite an accomplishment," Arthur commented with a smile. "Pleasure," He said as he shook Ennis' hand, who smiled shyly.

"Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Weasley," Ennis' smile didn't seem so shy or uneasy any more.

"Oh, Arthur, please." the man insisted. He turned back to Firo, saying, "You must be very excited – and proud."

Here, Firo's smile became genuine. "I am – excited that is. This is actually the first time I've ever been anywhere outside the U.S."

"Could you possibly tell me, if I may be so bold in asking," Arthur looked hopeful. "Do you know anything about the Muggles in America?"

"Muggles…? Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure, I'm actually good friends with quite a few of them."

"Really? You'll have to tell me about the Muggles there – how do they operate in their day-to-day lives?" Arthur spoke enthusiastically. "Is it any different from how Muggles do things here? I work as the Head of the Ministry's Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, you see – and I love learning about Muggle tek-no-lo-gee and the like." Arthur sounded ecstatic.

"…Sure?" Firo glanced curiously at Molly as if looking for guidance. "I'll try, I guess?"

"Fantastic!" Arthur declared. "This is so exciting, to be honest – I actually have a few Muggle contraptions here at the house. Perhaps – if you wouldn't mind – you could tell me how they work?"

"…No problem…" the poor boy looked lost.

"Arthur! Stop bothering our guests!" Molly scolded, although it was in her usual good-natured tone. "At least give them a chance to settle in before going off on whatever Muggle contraption has your fancy!" Molly's tone did a 180 as she smiled kindly at the visitors. "Hello, welcome dears. How're you? Come, come! Sit down and make yourselves comfortable! I'll be more than happy to get you tea, if you like. I also have coffee if you prefer that instead."

Arthur looked sheepish. "Of course, sorry dear," he smiled at the Yanks. "Got ahead of myself there, didn't I? Please, have a seat!"

Arthur quickly ushered the newest arrivals to the table. Firo glanced back at his associates looking rather flummoxed, but their expressions showed that they were just as confused as he was. The elder Weasley's often had that effect on people who met them for the first time.

"Ah, hello gentleman, Ms. Prochainezo," Dumbledore cheerfully welcomed the visitors, as he swiftly strode over to them, extending his hand in greeting. Meanwhile, the Yanks did a double-take upon seeing Dumbledore in all of his eccentric-style glory. "I'm Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Understandably, seeing those deep purple robes with the intricate designs and the beard tucked into the belt was a lot to take in upon meeting the man for the first time. The girl and the little boy both stared at the old wizard with fascination.

"…Yes…hello," Maiza was the first to gather himself and accepted Dumbledore's proffered hand. Quickly, the others followed suit. After shaking his hand, the Yanks seemed to be studying Dumbledore. It was actually the same kind of look Sirius would give someone if he were trying to determine if that person was crazy or simply peculiar. Dumbledore was known to be a little bit of both, actually.

"I wanted to personally welcome you to our school, Mr. Prochainezo, although I do wish it were under entirely different circumstances." Dumbledore said as he greeted the newest Dark Arts professor. "Minerva also told me quite a bit about you and your extended family; which I find very fascinating if I'm to be honest. I'm sure that the rest of the Order would be happy to learn about them well. Of course, I look forward to working with all of you."

Sirius thought that he caught some sort of hint in Dumbledore's words and in the way he and the Yanks looked at each other. There was an understanding between them. A quick glance over at Moony showed that he caught it too. Even Tonks had her eyebrows furrowed, and Mad-Eye had both eyes focused intently on Dumbledore and the Yanks.

Sirius observed the new arrivals carefully. Keith wore a scowl; but that seemed to be because he was probably humorless – but not really in a greasy potions professor way. Keith easily seemed like someone who took life seriously – like the type of person who didn't mess around. Berga also scowled, making Sirius take pause. The man seemed dangerous. The dog Anigmus could smell it. But of course, the exchange between him and Luck when they first arrived certainly seemed like how a normal family with loving, magical siblings would very likely act. There was no anger behind Berga's words; merely frustration at a younger sibling.

Turning someone's hair pink was a fun, harmless prank – it also sounded very much like one he would have pulled in his Marauder days. Luck was the only one of the brothers to smile, which was off-putting, to be honest. It was as if he knew something about everyone without even having to utter a word.

"Mr. Prochainezo was my old man. Just call me Firo," the young wizard smirked. "That goes for the rest of you," Firo indicated to the Order members.

"Very well, then." Dumbledore smiled. "Firo it is."

Sirius noticed something about Firo as he observed him: somehow, the boy seemed older than he actually appeared to be – judging by the way the boy spoke, he must have been forced to grow up early on in his life. He only had to be what…in his early twenties? Another indication in the boy's Yank accent was that he had very likely grown up on the streets, not to say the kid wasn't educated. Clearly, if he was skilled enough to procure a position as a Professor, at Hogwarts no less, he definitely had the knowledge to justify having the position in the first place. Only a fool would assume the "street rat" was all that there was to the boy. Sirius could hear the intelligence that Firo truly had in the way he spoke to the others.

Ennis was also young as well; probably within the same age-range as Firo, give or take a year. She smiled shyly at them; as if she were unused to meeting people or at least so many at once. She seemed to seek comfort from Firo and Czes. Firo grinned at her, and she smiled back. Sirius could see how Firo looked at her, and how she looked at him. Thoughts of James and Lily came to the forefront of his mind momentarily.

Clearly, the two looked to each other for support and comfort. Although it seemed at the moment all the support and comfort was coming from Firo as Ennis clung to him as if she would disappear through the floor if she dared letting go of his hand.

The shyness and uneasiness she exhibited began to dissipate as various Order members showed hospitality towards them. It wasn't until they were all seated that she fully relaxed. Ennis sort of reminded Sirius of Mad-Eye – in the sense that she seemed to half-expect an attack and prepared for it by sizing everyone else up. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't that Ennis was afraid she would disappear through the floor if she let go of Firo; she was holding on to him as if to show any potential attackers they would have to get through her to get to Firo.

That made Sirius smile. He was already starting to like the girl.

He didn't think that Czes and Ennis looked anything alike, so Sirius surmised that the boy was either a half-sibling or her step-brother. The boy eyed everyone with a mix of caution and child-like curiosity. If Sirius didn't know any better, he would almost say that the boy was analyzing them. There was something very old about those childish eyes…something that was probably much older than Dumbledore…

Sirius took closer look Czes' features…which were so cute! Was that how Harry looked when he was that age? Minus the bird's nest that was Harry's hair and the glasses, of course. If he had to guess, Harry probably looked like James, when he was that age – with Lily's eye color, of course. Why was he thinking something like that? Never mind. The boy was probably ten or eleven years old, so had his magic surfaced yet? Sirius paused for a moment. What had he been thinking about? Oh, well. It probably didn't matter.

He turned his attention back to the rest of their strange visitors. Maiza was a curious one as well. He seemed to have an odd habit of constantly keeping his eyes closed. Was there a reason for that? Ronnie was the most difficult of all of them to figure out. There was just  _something_ about him…when they had been introduced, Ronnie smiled; but it somehow seemed oddly forced. As if the action was somehow unnatural to him.

Ever the doting host and mother, Molly Weasley stepped up, making sure the new arrivals had something to drink (and to eat if they liked). She sent a glance to Czes, and kindly said, "Czeslaw dear, the other children are upstairs, just through that door there. Would you like something to drink? You can take it with you, if you like."

Czeslaw gave her an odd look, Sirius couldn't read it – but it certainly wasn't a look that should have belonged to a boy his age. Sirius couldn't really describe it at the moment, it just seemed  _off._  Was it annoyance of some kind? Any child would probably be annoyed at being left out of something like this. The four youngest Weasley children and the Granger girl, and especially Harry, certainly were. Czeslaw glanced at the others, obviously he wanted to stay and learn what was going on. But the Prochainezo couple simply nodded to him, and Firo motioned with his left hand to leave. The boy sighed, muttering, "Fine. I'll guess I'll be upstairs with the other  _children_."

Czes continued pouting as he turned to leave. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you."

Dumbledore stopped him before he could exit the room, though.

"Do excuse me, Mr. Meyer," the boy slowly turned to face the old wizard, "before you go. I wanted to give this to you."

He pulled a thick envelope out of the sleeve of his robe, and handed it to Czes. The boy took it without looking at it. He muttered a quiet, "Thanks," and hunched as if to show everyone that he was indeed upset at having to leave. At least the kid didn't put up as much of a fight as the others did.

After finding their seats, the new arrivals were introduced to Sirius, Severus Snape, and Nymphadora Tonks – who of course quickly protested at being called Nymphadora. When her usually pink hair shifted to a bright red, the Yanks looked very impressed. The introductions continued with Remus Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, along with Molly, Bill and Charlie. Smiling with amusement, Sirius noticed how the Yanks tried not to watch Mad-Eye's ever-shifting magical eye with a hint of morbid curiosity.

Things had to put on hold for the moment, because Luck was curious about Tonks' ability to change her hair color. Tonks happily showed off her Metamorphmagus abilities. As Sirius listened to their line of questioning, he surmised that Tonks was the first Metamorphmagus they had met – which was made clear when Luck mentioned he had only read about people with her abilities in books.

Sirius had to smile as he noticed that Luck's questions were laced with a sort of child-like curiosity. Tonks grinned as they genuinely seemed disappointed when Snivellus just _had_ to come along and ruin their fun.

"Can we  _please_ get down to business?" he asked in his usual monotone voice. "If I may inquire Headmaster…why  _are_  they here?"

He looked down his hooked nose at the Yanks with a scowl on his face, but he was outmatched in the skill of scowling by the likes of Berga and especially Keith. Luck just smiled – in a way that was completely opposite from how he had been smiling when speaking with Tonks. Sirius felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up at what normally should have been considered a friendly expression. He just  _knew_  there was something off about that smile. Even Snivellus shivered, although it was a mere twitch of an eye, it was a shiver nonetheless.

Ronnie simply sent Snivellus an indifferent glance, before simply turning his attention to something else. It was as if Ronnie didn't even consider the man to be worth his time in simply looking at him. Snivellus noticed this, and narrowed his gaze. Firo rolled his eyes, and Ennis blinked, as if she were trying to comprehend why Snivellus was treating them this way. Maiza gave an inquisitive glance, but said nothing.

"Everyone," Dumbledore began, not giving anyone a chance to answer Snivellus' question, "this is the Order of the Phoenix. I want to thank everyone for coming. I also wish to welcome our newest companions from America. It is my hope that all of us get along."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Maiza replied. "So, Minerva," his voice held concern as he turned to her. "What's going on?"

"It's scandalous!" Sirius banged his fist on the table before the old witch or anyone else could answer Maiza's question. He was prepared to go on another rant. "My godson was framed!"

"Okay…back up. One thing at a time, I suppose…" Maiza's focus turned to Sirius. "Who is your godson?"

Sirius pretended not to notice when more than a few people gave quiet sighs of relief at Maiza's unwitting intervention.

"Harry Potter." Sirius answered with a smile.

"Oh, your godson is the boy who has been in the newspapers since last year!" Ennis declared excitedly as she leaned forward in her seat.

" _The_ Harry Potter?" Firo grinned.

"The one and only," Sirius replied proudly. Even though the newspapers slandered Harry, he could still be proud of his precious godson for making the front page news more than once. Even if it were under the most dire circumstances as of late. He easily ignored the muttered comment of "glorified hero-worship" by Snivellus.

What followed was the condensed version of the tale of what happened to Harry Potter last night: a case which involved Dementors – something that made Sirius shiver visibly. They really were terrible creatures…Sirius started to remember the feeling of how it was to be within the dreadful company of those nightmarish beings. He never wanted to be in that position again. His thoughts were interrupted by an incredulous Berga.

"Wait, you have  _wild_  Dementors running around in Britain?" he glanced questioningly at the Order.

"Eh, no, actually." Hestia shook her head.

"The Ministry usually keeps a pretty tight hold on them," explained Moony. "…Usually. They're either kept in Azkaban or within the Ministry itself."

"Does that mean the Ministry here always uses them?" Ennis questioned Moony.

"Yes," Tonks answered for Moony, looking rather repulsed. "The use of Dementors at the Ministry is most often their go-to if tasks can't be handled by Aurors."

Ennis' mouth formed a thin line, and her brows furrowed. She clearly disapproved of the Ministry's use of the dark creatures.

The main topic of the meeting continued with Harry's Muggle cousin, underage magic, and the chance of him losing his wand for using said magic in a Muggle neighborhood, along with being expelled from Hogwarts. A few accusatory glances and comments were sent towards Mundungus, who tried and failed to shrink down in his seat. Each of the Yanks gave Mundungus a curious glance. No one was making it a point to not fault Mundungus for shirking his responsibilities.

"If a certain  _someone,"_  Sirius gave a pointed glance to Mundungus who was probably very much wishing for an invisibility cloak or the chance to Apparate, "had been there when the Dementors attacked, than we probably wouldn't even be in this situation."

"I must agree." Kingsley's voice replied darkly.

"It was just uh-a very unfortunate turn of events!" Mundungus did a very poor job of defending himself. "I weren't gone for at least ten minutes!"

"You were supposed to be  _watching_  that boy and you  _left_  him?" Ennis was eyeing Mundungus with a scrutinizing gaze.

"It was just for a few minutes!" Mundungus defended irritably.

"Whoa, back up." Firo held up a finger, his brow was furrowed. "Something doesn't make sense here. There were Dementors in a Mundane – I mean, Muggle neighborhood? Why would those hooded freaks be in a place like that?"

That was certainly something Sirius had been wondering.

"So, the kid required a bodyguard, and if  _he_  wasn't around," Berga jerked a thumb at Mundungus, "then what, the kid should've just laid down and let those things pick him and his cousin off?"

Ronnie's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What kind of fool would actually  _convict_  a person for self-defense?"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Firo ignored the gasp from Molly and McGonagall clearing her throat. Sirius hid a smile. Moony coughed to hide his own laugh. "This is ridiculous! I mean, they  _seriously_  can't consider taking away his wand or expelling him!  _Why_  the hell are they even considering it?"

"It's the law unfortunately," explained Moony, very likely using the explanation as an excuse to hide the fact that he was actually slightly humored by Firo. "Underage magic for young wizards and witches is strictly forbidden; and is taken very seriously. They would have to face a court anyway, simply because they used magic outside of Hogwarts, no matter what they were using their magic for. The fact that Harry used magic in a Muggle neighborhood makes the charges all the more severe. Unless it is considered justifiable for using their magic, they will lose their wands and be expelled from Hogwarts."

"That's a dumbass law," Berga stated firmly.

"Your law sucks ass," Firo agreed.

"That certainly doesn't seem very fair," Ennis mused. "Won't they make an exception in this case? Fending off Dementors would be considered a justifiable use for magic, wouldn't it?"

"This is Harry we're talking about here," Bill pointed out. "He'll be lucky if he gets out with nothing more than a slap on the wrist." Bill rapped on the table a few times for good luck.

"It's an unfortunate truth…" Arthur shook his head sadly.

"Now that we have discussed the dire situation which has brought forth this meeting," Dumbledore easily took over, even though his voice was quiet. "We must discuss the matters as to why our American friends are here."

Everyone turned their attention to the Yanks. In Sirius' opinion, it seemed that they weren't really all too surprised to be included in an Order meeting. Sure, now that he thought back on it, Maiza had questioned what was going on, and not why they were there. Perhaps McGonagall had invited them some time earlier in the year.

That thought made Sirius all the more curious about the Yanks' relationship with McGonagall, and even Dumbledore. The Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress knew something about their strange foreign friends that the others weren't in on. How did they know each other and for how long? There was no way any of them had attended Hogwarts…he certainly would have met any one of them had they attended. Did this have something to do with their "special talents"? The questions reeling through Sirius' mind were distraction enough for him to nearly tune out Dumbledore's explanation entirely.

"You see," Dumbledore's eyes gave off a curious glint – Sirius knew that he wasn't the only one to notice it. Oh, no. He knew that glint. Oh, Merlin's ball sack, it was one of  _those_  glints. Dumbledore's voice was somewhat solemn as he spoke. "While Firo and his family are at Hogwarts, I would like you gentlemen to come and go in the British Ministry in order to inform us what is going on within its walls."

The table sat in stunned silence. If Sirius had bothered to look over at McGonagall, he would have seen a very not surprised Deputy Headmistress. Although, she did have an expression of worried disapproval.

"It would be a pleasure," Luck smiled, as if Dumbledore had simply asked him to fetch some milk from the market. "But I-"

" _WHAT?!"_  shouts erupted on all sides, interrupting Luck.

Various shouts from Order members either demanded an explanation, questioned Dumbledore, how and why the Yanks would be sneaking into the Ministry, and that was just from bits and pieces that Sirius was able to make out. He stole a glance at their foreign visitors; all of whom were annoyed with everyone yelling.

Dumbledore merely raised his hands, asking for silence. Within seconds, everyone was quiet and the only noise that could be heard was everyone finding their seats. Now, curious and even some suspicious glances were targeted at the Yanks. Was this what Dumbledore meant when he said that he looked forward to working with Firo's family? Was sneaking into highly-secure places one of their talents? Sirius had to admit that was pretty damn impressive.

"Excuse me," Shacklebolt's baritone voice broke through the silence. He chose his words carefully as he spoke. "I must apologize to both Dumbledore and our American friends," his eyes studied them for a moment before turning his attention fully to Dumbledore. "But I must admit that I have my…reservations on having them enter the Ministry under such circumstances – especially at a time such as this."

He now turned to the Yanks, as he continued. "It's not that I am unwilling to work with you; it's that American wizards tend to be rather…impetuous. And most of the traditional wizards in the Ministry dislike Americans. If you are caught…Minister Fudge will very likely view this as an act of war. Not only will he think that Dumbledore is trying to usurp him, he will think that he is using American wizards to do it. Is it truly worth the risk?"

Luck took a deep breath, "All very valid points, and some of my own concerns as well, Mr. Shacklebolt." he sent a casual yet pointed glance to those who had been the most vocal before turning back to Shacklebolt. "You see, it's not that I'm concerned about the wards or the magic users at the Ministry – it's mostly the Dementors to be honest. Although none of us have ever had a personal encounter with the creatures, we still don't want to risk it.

"We…don't exactly have a Patronus spell to protect ourselves against them. If we were to encounter a Dementor, then our presence would become blatantly obvious, with no way to explain it away easily; in fact, saying all hell would break loose would be an understatement."

"Why would that be?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Our wands react badly to anything that magically puts us in danger." Luck answered after thinking for a moment.

"Care to elaborate?" Mad-Eye growled.

"Well…" Luck said thoughtfully, "Our wands are connected to and influenced by our emotions. If we were to encounter a Dementor, I'm sure our emotions would go haywire."

"Your wands are influenced by your emotions?" Moony asked in wonder.

Luck nodded as he continued. "Most likely, in terms of emotions when dealing directly with a Dementor, we would be left with anger, panic, fear…and the wands would instinctively defend themselves by attacking the Dementor, and then anyone and everyone who turned their magic onto us. If our wands reveal themselves, then any of the disillusionment spells that we have over us will be broken." There was genuine concern as Luck spoke. "People will know that there is something going on within the Ministry, and Mr. Dumbledore will likely be one of the people they suspect if not the first."

Luck gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Part of why we've never personally tested ourselves against Dementors is because we've seen what they can do to a person in a matter of seconds. Having a balance with our respective wands is crucial, and we're very certain that any contact with a Dementor could possibly disrupt that balance. But that's not to say we _can't_ learn to defend ourselves."

"That's really interesting…" Arthur looked at the Yanks with an air of curiosity that only a man with a desire to learn could have.

Dumbledore spoke with an air of calmness. "I understand your concerns, gentlemen. I don't expect you to – as the Muggles say, "go in guns blazing." Odd phrase, isn't it? Anyway, it is strictly for informational purposes. Not even Ms. Tonks or Mr. Shacklebolt, or Messrs. Bill and Charlie are privy to what goes on within the Ministry. Although Arthur is the head of his department, that doesn't mean he's included in goings on either." He smiled at the Yanks, that familiar twinkle in his eye. "Why, from what Minerva has told me of your particular talents, you should be able to gather information without even being noticed. No one would ever know that you were there. To address your concerns, perhaps Shacklebolt, Tonks and the Weasley's could accompany you when they can and help prevent any Dementor attacks? At least until you learn how to take care of them yourselves. We could also provide you with the necessary information to navigate your way through the Ministry."

Dumbledore seemed to put the Yanks at ease with that bit of encouragement. The strange wizards glanced at each other as if looking for any signs of approval or disagreement. There appeared to be none, so Maiza only nodded at Dumbledore with a smile.

"So, what are these 'talents' of yours?" Mad-Eye questioned, his fake eye scanning the Yanks rapidly.

"Numerous things, really…" Maiza answered after thinking for a moment. "But I believe what Professor Dumbledore was referring to here is our spell-casting. How do I explain it?" He thought for a moment before explaining. "We have created various complex wards that allow aspects of us to be noticed, yet not fully acknowledged. It's somewhat similar to the wards you cast over buildings to make Muggles feel compelled by the need to do something or be somewhere; but I personally know Muggles who could very easily get around said wards if they really put their minds to it."

There was a light gasp from various people sitting at the table, but Maiza ignored it as he continued in his explanation. Sirius could have sworn that he heard Snivellus mutter, "Muggles capable of getting around wards? Impossible."

Maiza either didn't notice or chose not to acknowledge Snivellus as he continued in his explanation of their magic. For some reason, Sirius felt as if it were the latter.

"The way our wards work is that people who notice those certain aspects of us, depending on what it is, will have a sudden thought that is similar to the one that they had about us. Their train of thought basically goes off track so rapidly from there that they forget what they originally noticed or were thinking in the first place." Maiza paused, showing an expression of mild irritation. "The only real flaw to it is if the person is strongly aware of what they notice. Essentially, the thought so intensely stays at the forefront of their mind that not even outside distractions could drive it away."

"You cast wards on yourselves?" Moony was impressed and very curious.

Sure, they had disillusionment charms, but those could only get a person so far. Sirius then wondered…he felt for certain that he had noticed  _something_  about the Czes boy, but then he had completely forgotten what it was. Whatever wards Czes had on him had affected Sirius. Had anyone else noticed whatever it was, or had it been just him?

"Yeah, pretty much." Berga nodded proudly.

Tonks shared Remus' excitement, with her declaration of, "That's amazing! Could you show us?"

Even Snivellus looked mildly impressed.

"Well, perhaps if given the chance." Maiza smiled warmly. "It's kind of hard to do once you've already been acknowledged by everyone in the room."

Something about the man truly made him seem very trustworthy.

"One moment please, before we go any further into this," Ronnie suddenly spoke; for some reason it made a few of the Order members jump. Merlin dammit, that man was just so… _unnatural._  He leaned over to Maiza and whispered something – Sirius couldn't catch any of what he was saying. But whatever it was, Maiza pursed his lips and silently nodded, his smile gone, replaced by a concerned frown.

"Before we become more involved than what we already are, along with imparting any of our secrets, I have something to ask you," Ronnie said carefully as he turned to address the room. "The Philosopher's Stone: I heard rumors that someone among your ranks made one. Whatever happened to it?"

"It was destroyed a few years ago," Dumbledore replied in a suddenly guarded tone. "I performed the task personally."

Ronnie seemed to be studying Dumbledore; as if he were searching for any sign of falsehood. Sirius paused. Was Ronnie trying to use Legilimency against Dumbledore? The few seconds of silence that followed were almost deafening.

"It's better off that way." Ronnie breathed a sigh of relief. "Knowing that you don't have something like that in your possession makes me more comfortable in us getting involved with all of this."

"If I may," Shacklebolt began, now carefully studying Ronnie, "why are you so concerned over the Philosopher's Stone?"

Looking genuinely surprised, Ronnie asked, "You mean you don't _know_ what it's truly capable of?" He glanced to the side, muttering, "Of course you wouldn't."

Sirius was about to ask what he meant by that, but a concerned McGonagall had something else on her mind.

"Just what sort of power does it hold?" the old witch asked.

"It allows you to bypass the laws Alchemy and even magic itself has set in place," Ronnie replied after a moment. "Even a fragment the size of a small coin holds an enormous amount of power."

"Oh, Merlin…" McGonagall brought a hand to her mouth in shock. When she brought her hand away, her mouth was in a firm, worried line. "Ronnie – does it…can it grant a person immortality?"

Although Sirius thought that it was an odd question, but after hearing what the Stone was truly capable of, he probably shouldn't be surprised.

"No. Merely a long life; although the drinker will still age," Ronnie explained. "They will do so at much slower rate than the average person."

Arthur and Molly both looked on horrified. The Anigmus knew that he, the couple, and very likely everyone else present had the same thought: Voldemort had been so close…did he know? Or did he think that the Stone was simply for creating the Elixir like all of them did?

"How is that even possible?" Snivellus' tone was its usual drawl, but Sirius could have sworn that he caught what could have been concern laced within his words.

"Your knowledge is truly that limited?" Ronnie sighed. "It takes Human lives in order to give it its power; the more lives you have at your disposal, the bigger and more powerful it will be. Where do you think that lovely red color comes from? Throwing in a few magical sentient beings adds to its potency."

"No way…" Tonks said. Her hair shifted through various shades of reds and blues before settling on some dark, dismal black color. The others didn't seem to be able to believe it either – Sirius knew for sure that he didn't. More like he didn't  _want_  to believe it.

"Is that true?" Dumbledore's expression had become dark.

"Yes." Ronnie answered simply.

"How many people would it take to make a Stone that is just big enough to fill your palm?" Dumbledore indicated the size in his hand.

"It would take probably a few hundred to create something that size. Likely close to a thousand, give or take."

"Oh, Flamel…what did you do?" Dumbledore momentarily rubbed his temples.

"But it is in the past, and the Stone is destroyed." Ronnie smiled, in an attempt Sirius supposed, as a way to comfort Dumbledore. "Because you no longer have something like that in your possession, I am willing to assist you in whatever way that is needed." He sent a sideways glance to his fellow wizards before adding, "I am honestly relieved that you have no hand in something like this, Minerva."

It seemed that he was mostly apologizing for their benefit. Ronnie sent something akin to a smile at McGonagall, who only seemed to be able to smile back sadly – although there was still a trace of concern in her eyes. The Yanks now looked noticeably more relaxed. Firo even let out a deep breath. A sliver of admiration for their integrity grew within the dog Anigmus. They were far different than their Western counterparts that he had always believed.

"So, you are willing to become members of the Order in the fight against Voldemort, then?" Dumbledore asked, with the tone of his voice light once again. The Yanks nodded in response.

Berga grinned, "Looking forward to it." A dangerous glint was in his eye. "Abbronzarsi and I have been itching for some action."

Oh, great Merlin. He almost forgot. The man obviously loved to fight. And who or what is an "Abbronzarsi?" But no one got the chance to ask.

"Very well," the venerable Headmaster smiled.

"I'm curious about something," Keith suddenly spoke. Although his voice was quiet, it carried over them. He wore a rather deep scowl. It was obvious that Keith was a man who commanded respect, and Sirius could tell that he was a powerful wizard as well – but there was something… _different_  about it. Sirius just couldn't put his finger on that either. Keith's stern gaze went to the table for a moment as he was shuffling a deck of cards. When or where had he gotten those?

Sirius noticed how all of the Yanks turned their attention to Keith. He could see something in their expressions – as if they were taking the fact that  _he_  was speaking very seriously.

"What about, Mr. Gandor?" Dumbledore spoke inquisitively.

Keith exhaled, and he drew a card.

"The attack on Harry _is_ pretty suspicious..." Berga said as he looked at the others. It was strange for a moment, as if Berga was replying to someone who hadn't spoken.

"What would those suspicions be?" Mad-Eye asked before Keith could even start. Honestly, the former Auror was doing a very poor job of not looking too eager. Old Mad-Eye Moody loved discussing topics of suspicion and conspiracies – as he often said,  _"Constant vigilance!"_  It was just that he liked to be prepared for anything, but still. And spending nearly a year locked in his own trunk while a Death Eater paraded around wearing his face hadn't helped things. If anything, it had made the man more paranoid than ever before.

Keith glowered at all of them for a moment before Luck asked, "You said that your Ministry usually keeps a pretty tight leash on them, yes?" 

Shacklebolt responded with a simple, "That's correct."

Luck glanced at Keith briefly before saying, "So they wouldn't have any reason to just wander off?" 

It took a moment for Sirius to realize that Luck was translating whatever Keith was "saying" in his silence.

"No, they wouldn't," Shacklebolt answered, curious as to where this was going.

Keith sighed as he put the card in his hand face down in what looked to be a discard pile. Luck nodded and then said, "Why out of all the people in England they could potentially feed off of, would they specifically target Harry Potter? Keith has his doubts that it was a "wrong place wrong time" situation."

"Oh, my," Molly gasped in dismay as she brought a hand to her mouth in worry.

Keith drew a card from the top of the deck, glanced at it for only a moment before returning it to the middle of the stack. His face looked grim, as Luck asked, "Why would they specifically target the very one who has been claiming since last year that Voldemort has come back?

"My brother makes a very good point."

Sirius' eyes widened. Judging by the expressions on the faces of the others seated at the table, they were all now _really_ taking into consideration the attack and Keith's words. Yes, the others had shared his suspicions, but hearing the Yank say it only confirmed them. Merlin damn it all!

"Oh...that would make sense..." Luck said.

"You think it's an inside job?" Berga asked Keith, who only nodded.

Keith continued absent mindedly shuffling his deck of cards once again.

Luck started speaking again, "Those creatures work for the Ministry, and you said yourself that there aren't any wild ones going around unsupervised. That could only mean that someone within that Ministry is setting him up. As for the trial, it may be an ample opportunity to discredit him about his claims."

Sirius clenched his fists. Someone in the Ministry had enough pull that Dementors of all the atrocious things, would actually listen to them.

Bill shook his head. "…Who in the Ministry could've done it?" he said aloud, although he wasn't addressing anyone directly. Bill was mentally going through everyone that he worked with at the Ministry before speaking up again. "I mean, I know that there are people who don't like Harry. And I don't think that Fudge… _would_ Fudge actually try something like this?"

The problem with that theory was the fact that Fudge didn't exactly like getting his hands dirty. Sure, he could be a desperate man – of that fact, Sirius was certain. But Fudge didn't exactly have the shrewdness to pull off something of this scale in such a round-about manner – of that, Sirius was even more certain.

"On one hand, I wouldn't put it past him." Sirius scoffed. "But on the other, I don't think he has enough of a pair to actually go through with it; much less actually  _think_  of something like siccing Dementors on someone in a manner like this."

"Hmm…" Keith shrugged. Sirius took it as Keith saying he didn't know the man all that well, so he could neither confirm nor deny any suspicions he may have had towards Fudge.

"In my opinion," Maiza said thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the table, "the desired end result seems to rely heavily on chance, don't you think?" He paused in speech and brought his hand to his chin. "With this trial, there's a high chance of Harry losing his wand and being expelled from Hogwarts – thus losing all of his defenses. Unless of course whoever it was wasn't counting on him knowing the Patronus spell; because then Harry would have been nothing more than a quick and easy feast."

Sirius felt his heart drop into his stomach. Even more fear and worry for his precious godson bubbled to the surface. Who in the Ministry was responsible? If he found out who it was, he would very likely make the falsified title of "murderous madman" a true one. Maybe their guests sneaking into the Ministry wouldn't be that bad of a thing.

"But he's just a boy!" Molly looked distraught. "Oh…what has he done to deserve this?"

"Good or bad, this is the kind of thing that happens when you aren't a coward." Firo glanced over to the Weasley matriarch. "For the past year, the kid's been going around spouting that the Voldy-guy is back. It's been all over the newspapers, even in America. The magic users back home just won't shut up about it.  _Don't_ get me started on that."

At Firo's statement,  _all_  of the Yanks either gave heavy sighs or rolled their eyes at the mention of the Dark Lord being a conversational topic. Various voices of agreed irritation and muffled expletives sounded from the Yanks. Ah. That seemed to be where the annoyance was coming from. Sirius had to admit he found some humor in their situation. Rather than actually fear the name of the Dark Lord, they were more irritated by it.

"This is how wars have been fought for thousands of years." Ronnie added. "Turn people against each other to make them blind to the big picture. Discredit the truth and sugar-coat the lies. People would rather believe what they want to hear, than face a truth that is far too terrifying to even want to consider."

"Sounds like that idiot, Fudge." Sirius muttered bitterly. Fudge had seriously risen to the top on Sirius' least favorite people list.

"Something I don't understand," Tonks was borderline complaining, "Ol' Fudge was ready to declare that the Dark Lord's back n'all, then suddenly 'e starts goin' off on how Dumbledore is trying to usurp him!" She turned to the Yanks in her irritation, saying, "They kept offering Dumbledore the position as Minister of Magic, you know. He kept turning it down every time!"

"Really?" Firo glanced at Dumbledore and smirked. "Well, that's impressive for the old man. Kinda pathetic though for the guy who only got the job 'cause the first one said 'no'."

"I've heard about your Minister, and he certainly isn't helping things." Maiza sighed. "I've known people like him. The only way for him to actually believe that Volde…" he paused momentarily when people started shuddering, but simply continued, "…mort, is back is to actually meet him face-to-face…"

"The man's an idiot, Maiza." Firo muttered under his breath. "There's no reasoning with him. If he saw Voldemort he'd probably blame it on a trick of the light."

"Sad, but true," Maiza agreed, showing that he wouldn't fight a losing battle.

Sirius snorted. "So you think that too, do you?"

"The man would rather risk the lives of thousands than risk losing his precious little title." Firo shook his head. "Look, I may not be some do-gooder or a fiend, but at least I know where I stand. If you ask me," Firo held up his hand, indicating a rather small space between his index finger and thumb, "he's got a serious inferiority complex."

Sirius had to laugh at that statement, as did Moony. Even a rasping laugh from Mad-Eye could be heard. The kid was an enigma – and he had a sense of humor. He readily admitted that he chose no side, but yet here he was taking up the position that saved Hogwarts from the Ministry's clutches, and even saying that Harry was in the right to defend himself. Plus, he was joining the Order.

_We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are._

Sirius felt a sort of kinship with Firo, and was starting to respect these odd, American wizards. James and Lily certainly would have liked them.

"While we must prepare for Harry's coming trial," Dumbledore sounded solemn. "There is something that I must ask our American friends here to share," he nodded to them, "the secondary reason they are here: a demonstration of their…particular talents."

It was here that an air of seriousness came over the Americans, as they glanced at each other questioningly.

"I guess I'll be the one to do it," Luck said after a moment, as he slowly rose from his chair. Meanwhile, Firo had pulled out his wand – which was very different from any wand Sirius had ever seen. It was a deep forest green with a polished silver handle; with the silver so seamlessly intertwined with the wood that it was as if the two were one element.

"I'll just modify the conditions of the spell," Firo said, and then he turned to the others to explain. "This is a modification to a spell that basically prevents anyone here from telling anyone else what we're about to show you." Then, with an expression of deep concentration on his face, he ignored the questioning looks from the Order members as he muttered, "Let's see…what were the words? Really?...Damn, why's it gotta be so complicated…?

" _Segreto, non essere rivelato al di là di quelli presenti. Essi non parlano né scrivere di questo segreto; prenderanno questo segreto nella tomba. Essi possono rivelare nulla; nemmeno sotto minaccia di morte o di influenza. Segreto , da sigillare."_

…That wasn't Latin, like the usual spells. Italian, Sirius believed. The tip of Firo's wand glowed, mesmerizingly…Sirius felt as if the light itself was somehow alive. The light broke off from Firo's wand and separated into smaller bits of light, which began to circle all the members of the Order starting from their ankles up. It felt like tingling sensation that coursed through his entire body, just like when getting a small shock. When the light reached his head, there was a tickle in his throat that only lasted for a few seconds, but it resulted in a coughing fit for everyone who had been surrounded by the strange light. The light disappeared moments later.

It was now that everyone turned their attention to Luck, who was taking a small pistol from his jacket.

"I've seen those before," Arthur said, indicating the gun in Luck's hand. "A revolving…Oh! A revolver! Those are dangerous…" The man paused, quickly processing that information. Judging by the expressions on everyone else's faces, they were coming to the same conclusion he was. "W-why do you…have…that…?"

Arthur started to rise from his chair, but Maiza shook his head. "You probably should stay seated,"

Luck cocked the pistol. "Please don't panic when you see this."

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Sirius demanded when Luck brought the pistol to his temple. What the bloody hell was this?! Sirius turned to the other Americans. "Why aren't you stopping him?!"

"Merlin's beard!" Emmaline shouted in a near scream. "Albus, Minerva! What is the meaning of this?"

"Just watch," was the simple response from Berga.

The older Gandors just simply sat there as their little brother was about to commit suicide. The bastards! He had overestimated them.

Even McGonagall who was old friends with the men seemed unfazed, although she looked rather ill. Why wasn't she stopping him?!

Moody drew his wand shouted a beginning of  _"Expell – "_  but even he was too slow.

There was a loud pop as Luck pulled the trigger, which was much quieter than how traditional guns were supposed to sound. A good amount of his blood and brains sprayed onto the wall behind him. The heartless bastards didn't even react as Luck's body fell to the floor, lifeless. Molly was sobbing uncontrollably. Tonks looked ill. Everyone else looked horrified.

"Albus, what is the meaning of this?!" Shacklebolt couldn't contain his anger.

"This is disgusting, you sick fu –" Sirius started when he noticed that Luck's blood began to float off of the wall and back into his body. Luck slowly stood, and the wound on the side of his head closed. If none of them had just witnessed the man shooting himself there would have been no way of knowing he had been fatally wounded in the first place.

"That really is so bothersome," Luck sighed as he returned the pistol to the inside pocket of his jacket.

"What the bloody hell…" Bill wheezed.

"You-you were dead!" Arthur finally managed to blurt out.

Molly promptly fainted in her seat.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1957_

_Minerva paused mid-sentence. She mentally did a double-take. They thought that magic was gifted to a person; as in a literal gift. They had been given their magic. These men…no…it was impossible! How in Merlin's name?! The realization almost made Minerva swoon in her seat. These men are…no, had been Muggles._

"How is that possible?!" Minerva found herself demanding. "That isn't how…" she paused, taking a deep breath. Thinking carefully in order to process this information and to calm herself, she asked, "How in Merlin's name does alchemy work for you? Alchemy is supposed to be a science, intermingled with magic." The latter part of that sentence was her brain desperately trying to hold onto some method of reasoning. "How did it "gift you" your magic?"

"Years ago," Maiza began, his expression seeming distant. "Some friends and I gathered the ingredients and drew out the alchemical symbol, and we..." Maiza stopped for a brief moment. "We unwittingly created the way in which we would get our magic. It was an unintended end result, honestly."

"What were you actually trying to achieve?" Minerva asked.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry; Ms. Minerva…what we did isn't something I wish to share." Maiza simply continued again before Minerva had a chance to respond. "A day after we had used the alchemic ritual, ah…we were gifted with our wands, along with instructions on how to use them." He smiled, almost in an amused manner.

"So…who gave you your wands?"

The men glanced at each other, and then to her.

"Unfortunately, we cannot tell you that." Don Molsa answered with a shake of his head.

"It's not that we are unwilling, but the conditions are far too dangerous." Maiza insisted.

"Conditions?" Minerva was incredulous. "You have  _conditions_  on telling someone where and how you received your wands?"

"Those are the rules. Although they can be temporarily modified to an extent, they can never be broken nor fully spoken of." Maiza explained.

Once again, she felt very lost. She recalled their questions on how she had received her wand, along with the surprise that another magic user would be the one to give her a wand. Eric – if she remembered his name correctly – had said something about how 'any rational person would be terrified' of receiving their wand from  _something._  Of course, the subject was changed before they could get further into it. Oh, Merlin.

"Was it a person who gave you your wands?" She finally asked. "Can you tell me anything about him or her?"

Don Molsa hummed. "No, I can't on that regard..."

"I'm not sure how much we are able to tell you…" Maiza said after glancing at Don Molsa. "There are things we can't speak of, and it's not because we are unwilling."

So did that mean that some sort of binding spell was preventing them from telling her what she wanted to know? Obviously, the first half of the alchemic ritual was somehow a sensitive topic for Maiza, so he was leaving something out – thus leaving out some sort of key detail at the same time.

"He likes birds, especially ravens." Luck said after a moment. "And Italian is his preferred language, although he claims to be able to speak all languages."

This bit of information honestly just confused Minerva even more. She just couldn't fathom how a wizard who had an affinity for the Italian language, liked ravens and giving out wands to people could possibly be linked to alchemy and magic. Besides, these men had been Muggles!

"I really don't know much about him, really." Maiza thoughtfully tapped the rim of his coffee mug. "But he likes to play odd little games – just to see what would happen. Since he likes Italian for some reason, all of our spells are in that particular language."

Why Italian? Well, most of if not all of her spells were in Latin – because there was an ancient, mysterious power behind the words that Muggles could never even hope to grasp. Minerva sighed quietly. She felt as if she wasn't really getting anywhere, even though she had new information. She took a few more bites of her soup, which was still surprisingly warm. Allen must have had a warming spell on the bowl. Pausing with the thought, Minerva looked at the men.

"Could we perhaps have a demonstration of simple spells? I'll go first, if that's alright."

The men happily obliged her. She smiled to herself when she noticed that Allen, Maiza and Luck all looked a bit too eager; with the latter two trying to hide it.

Minerva took out her wand once again as she stood, and with a clear voice said,  _"Lumos."_

The tip of her wand glowed brightly in response.

"Very interesting…" Don Molsa thoughtfully studied Minerva and the lit wand.

"Hmm. I suppose I could go next," stated Luck as he pulled out his own wand. He cleared his throat gently, then said,  _"Bacchetta, lo faro diventerà."_

His wand glowed brightly at his command. It was a different sort of light, Minerva noticed. The best way to describe it was that it felt as if the light itself were a living thing.

" _Nox,"_ Minerva put out the light at the end of her wand.

" _Bacchetta: tornare alla normalità,"_  Luck's wand returned to its normal state as well.

After a few more minutes of demonstrating their respective spells, Minerva began to realize that these gentlemen's spells required a noun, and then the verb. It also appeared that they had to be very clear in what they wanted to do with an object, and what they wanted that object to do. They couldn't simply  _Accio_ a glass into their hands; they had to express what kind of glass they wanted. Otherwise, things got messy…

Keith was the one who looked oddly very irritated as Berga very happily explained to her about various kinds of glass. From what she understood as they explained the incident to her, Keith had unwittingly summoned  _all_  the glass to him when he first used the spell. That apparently included the all windows and the mirrors within his immediate vicinity. And even Maiza's glasses.

She hid her laugh behind a hand, accidently letting out a light snort. Her laughter ended up making the wizards laugh, and even Keith seemed to lighten up a bit; even though he didn't smile.

Minerva made some rather interesting discoveries as she observed the odd wizards' way of magic. They didn't seem to require any sort of specific wand movement in order to carry out the required spell. Depending on the strength or requirement of the spell, it ranged from a simple flick of the wrist to a fierce throwing motion.

Each of the men seemed to have certain degrees of power and control that varied widely between them. Strangely, Maiza had the most control out of all the others – he didn't need to specify the details of what he wanted the spell to do. While the Gandor brothers (Luck less so) and Don Molsa had to somewhat describe what they wanted their intended spells to do, Maiza simply had to say a few words.

He demonstrated this by easily summoning a cup of  _iced_ tea – without having to specify that he wanted it iced or what type of container he wanted the liquid to be in. Minerva internally balked at the thought of cold tea. Who in their right mind drank  _cold_ tea?!

When Minerva demonstrated a bit of conjuration using the  _Aguamenti_  spell, it was a surprise to the men. It was a surprise to Minerva that they did not seem to have any form of conjuration; rather they would have to put a spell onto the desired objects to magically lock onto their person. There appeared to be some sort of weight or size limit to objects that were locked to their person – with two simple commands from Don Molsa,  _"Sigaro, venire"_ and  _"Pistola, vieni da me"_ the man summoned a cigar and later a pistol into his hands.

"We can't always rely on magic to help us," the man said sagely with a nod as Minerva curiously and warily eyed the pistol. "'Tis a foolish thing,  _mia signora."_

They took her outside behind the restaurant and with another command from Don Molsa, he summoned a car that appeared a few feet in front of him with a loud  _*BANG!*_  Minerva found herself unwittingly flinching and backing away from the sound. Don Molsa only smiled knowingly and with a shrug, explained, "Larger objects tend to do that…" his expression turned rather grim as he continued with, "Don't get us started with people…"

"It gets…messy…" Luck equally grimaced.

"By messy, you mean…?" Minerva thought she knew where this was going, but just wanted to make sure.

"Our body parts have gotten left behind before…" Maiza shivered visibly. "There are those of us who on the proper wavelength with our wand, and can teleport to another location intact. But that doesn't always guarantee the people we bring with us will be intact upon arrival…"

"I once was teleported without my innards." Berga sucked air through his teeth as he thought of the memory. "Although it was messy, a quick spell put 'em right back where they belong. I've gotten pretty good with my wavelength where I'm only  _sometimes_  missing a limb."

He seemed rather proud of himself with that last statement.

Clearly, and understandably, they did not have the same laws wizards and witches were under in terms of Apparition. Minerva really shouldn't be all too surprised any more.

Back inside the restaurant, Minerva learned that their form of Transfiguration was also very…different, to say the least. Minerva had turned Maiza's empty coffee mug into a fat toad, followed by turning the toad into a small statue of the amphibian before turning it back into the coffee mug. Keith was the one to step up and try the same (or at least, similar) Transfiguration spells as Minerva. He was amazingly skilled at casting wordless spells, Minerva noted. Although he occasionally muttered quietly, the majority of his casting was silent. That was a skillset that many a witch or wizard could only hope to achieve. Only a select few ever managed to master the art of silent spell casting. Seeing how he hardly ever spoke a word, it was understandable.

When Keith transformed the coffee mug into a toad as well with a silent spell, Minerva was taken aback at the appearance of the toad. Maybe horrified would better describe how she felt towards the thing. It  _looked_  like a toad, except for the fact that it looked like a twisted, nightmarish version of the slimy creature. It was dark purple, with numerous sharp thorns protruding from its body. Large, bulging red eyes watched their every move. The eyes shifted individually in their sockets; one eye watched Minerva, the other whirled in the opposite direction to watch the men. When the thing croaked, it sounded ghastly.

"Why…" Minerva began as she eyed the toad uneasily. "Why does it look like…that…?"

Keith quirked an eyebrow after a moment as if asking, 'Is it supposed to look any other way?'

The toad released another ghastly-sounding croak. She saw teeth. Oh, Merlin – it had  _teeth!_  Why does it have teeth?!

"It looks like a creature that would fall under the XXXX category of animals!" Minerva yelped when the toad hopped straight up and attached itself upside-down to the ceiling with a very slimy-sounding  _*plop*_. It let out another unearthly croak, sounding very much like a hiss. Now, Minerva screamed. It was a small scream, but a scream nonetheless.

She toppled her chair in her attempt to be nowhere near that horrifying toad. Minerva shuddered.  _"Please_  Mr. Keith, return that thing to normal!"

Keith obliged, easily catching the mug and returning it to the table. The mug now looked as if a demented artist decided to add what looked to be deformed bats to the mug. It looked like a twisted souvenir that she would find only in Knockturn Alley. The sight of it made her shudder. It was horrid.

Minerva shot all of the men a hateful glare as each of them seemed humored by her reaction. Even if they weren't smiling – Keith, for example – she could see the humor in his eyes! Feeling rather flustered as she straitened her dress, and purposefully ignoring Allen who was laughing as he picked up her chair. Sitting back down, Minerva cleared her throat. "Why did that toad not look like a  _normal_  toad? And why does that coffee mug look so…"

Any words she had for the coffee mug would be insulting to the one whose spell had changed it.

Keith shrugged.

Thankfully, Luck came to the rescue again to translate for her.

"He says that he didn't specify the kind of toad that he wanted. It's pretty much the same with the coffee cup. If we don't specify how we want an object to look, it comes out looking like this," Luck held up the mug. "You could say that it's my brother's signature. Each of our wands is unique."

He got  _all_  of that from a  _shrug?_ Minerva found herself questioning just how on earth the people here managed to understand Keith. She had to wonder if it was some kind of spell.

"Mr. Avaro actually has helped train all of us, as he has been with his magic for the longest. Naturally, his is far more honed." Don Molsa explained. He looked sheepish. "Although, we still have quite a bit of learning to do…"

"I'm  _trying_  to fully understand your magic," Minerva said honestly. "But I  _don't_  fully understand it."

"Well…" Maiza began. "Basically, the more we cast a particular spell, the easier it is to perform. It's sort of like trying to find the right wavelength with our wand. It eventually becomes like second-nature; requiring less concentration and specification. Much like how I dispatched those boys who were bothering you yesterday; I did not need specification on what it was I wanted them to forget."

Minerva nodded, feeling like she now at least  _somewhat_ understood.

"Our wands are connected to and influenced by our emotions," Maiza indicated his wand. "That makes finding the proper wavelength both difficult and vital. By finding that unique wavelength with the wand, we no longer have the need to be so specific in our spells.

"There are other ways we can learn and build our magical capabilities, like practicing spells over and over, which is tiresome, to be honest. Another way is studying books with spells and the like." Maiza continued, but his expression became downcast. "…Some methods are much darker than others."

Obviously, those methods were another point that Maiza wanted to avoid. At least Minerva felt as if she had learned  _some_  new information. She was about to ask another question, when a man's voice interrupted her. Minerva turned and saw that Eric, and another man that she didn't recognize had come into the restaurant through the backway. She also noticed right away that both of them looked very grim.

"Sorry to intrude," the voice of the man whom she didn't know sent shivers down her spine. "But we have a visitor."

His cool gaze passed over, or more like it passed  _through_ Minerva. She unintentionally shivered. Why was he making her feel like that?

"Ah, Ms. Minerva, this is Ronnie Schiatto, an old friend of mine." Maiza said, looking like his old self once more. "Ronnie, this is Minerva McGonagall. She's a natural born magic user. Isn't that amazing? She's been kind enough to share aspects of her magic with us."

Minerva felt Ronnie's scrutinizing gaze on her. Minerva thought that he had an odd look of realization or understanding on his face. His eyes were…he smiled at her. Or at least he tried to. His smile seemed to be forced; as if he were trying to be warm and welcoming, but was unsure of how to do so. Like smiling wasn't exactly a natural occurrence for him.

"Is she now? How interesting. Nice to meet you," his attention, thank Merlin, turned from her to Maiza. "Our guest is out waiting in the car. Should I bring him in?"

Maiza nodded. "Yes," then Maiza turned back to Minerva. "I'm afraid that something's come up. Can we reschedule?"

"I'll be busy for the next few days, I believe." Minerva answered after thinking for a moment. She wondered who this "guest" of theirs was. "I suppose I'll come by sometime next week, around the same time; 6:00."

"See you then," Maiza said as he escorted her out.

"Until next week, I guess." Minerva gave a small wave.

She was still standing there when Maiza closed the door and she heard the lock click. Quickly moving to an alleyway so that she could Apparate to her temporary apartment, Minerva pondered over the information that had been given to her. Maiza was, for whatever reason, reluctant and seemingly unable to share details as to how they had gotten their magic.

Maiza was leaving out key pieces of information, of that she was certain. What exactly were the darker ways they develop and hone their magical abilities? Who or what was that raven person? Could she learn more? Did Maiza tell her everything there was to know about the raven person? Was he telling her the truth, or simply what he thought she needed to know?

There seemed to be a lot of darkness and mystery surrounding their magic, but it was something that Maiza himself was clearly uncomfortable with. She didn't get the impression that any of them were dark wizards – even though their spells seemed to be rather twisted. Also, it wasn't like she could accuse or complain – her form of magic had dark and cruel secrets as well. Even if the wizards were involved with the Mafia, they were genuine in how they treated her with kindness and respect. They were genuine in their desire to learn.

"Until next week, then…" Minerva muttered tiredly. Her brain needed a break.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1995_

" _This is disgusting, you sick fu –" Sirius started when he noticed that Luck's blood began to float off of the wall and back into his body. Luck slowly stood, and the wound on the side of his head closed. If none of them had just witnessed the man shooting himself there would have been no way of knowing he had been fatally wounded in the first place._

" _That really is so bothersome," Luck sighed as he returned the pistol to the inside pocket of his jacket._

" _What the bloody hell…" Bill wheezed._

" _You-you were dead!" Arthur finally managed to blurt out._

_Molly promptly fainted in her seat._

Maiza let out a deep sigh as Luck simply brushed himself off. By the Raven; it truly was a bothersome rule about actually coming out and telling someone that they were Immortal, but at the same time it worked in their favor. The only way he and the others could even tell someone the fact was for that person to witness an Immortal's "death." Honestly, he hated doing it. He'd rather have avoided telling the Order at all, but that wasn't really possible. The natural-born magic user would have questions and want answers, and the inability to answer said questions would very likely be viewed as unwillingness. This was a time when things were uncertain, so trust amongst allies was a must.

Certain magical rules had prevented Minerva from telling anyone other than Dumbledore about his being an Immortal, and even more rules had been applied afterwards. So many years before, Ronnie had told him:

" _Humans are foolish creatures in general; I've been around to witness it. But if you apply magic to the formula of their stupidity, there is chaos. You've seen it happen among your fellow Immortals. That's why there are such strict rules, and we must abide by them at all times, Maiza – even as annoying and inconvenient as they are. Those rules keep us safe."_

"That should make discussing things a little easier," Luck said as he took his seat once again. Maiza quickly informed the still dazed Order members of the reason they had to see Luck die as if it were nothing more than a trivial matter. "Honestly, this is a sign of good faith; unsettling though it may be. I'm sure that everyone present didn't want the meeting dragging on any longer than necessary."

"Good faith…?" Lupin asked breathlessly, his face looked to be much paler than before.

"How can you be so casual about this?" an equally if not more so, pale-looking Emmaline asked. She looked as if she wanted to faint as well.

"Well, we  _obviously_  didn't want it to be a surprise," Berga rolled his eyes. "If you found out under different circumstances you would've been angry at the old man, Minerva and us for not telling you in the first place and accusations would've been flying out of your asses." Berga lowered his voice, but not enough so that the Order members could still hear him. "Damn magic users are never satisfied."

Knowing Berga, it was very likely intentional, causing Maiza to briefly massage his temples. Thankfully, it seemed that everyone was still getting over their shock to take any offence at Berga's little jab. The only comment that was heard came from one Minerva McGonagall who said in her all-too-familiar scolding tone, "Oh,  _must_  you, Berga?"

Berga shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the woman's sharp tone and found one of his shoes to be very interesting at that moment. She just had that sort of effect on people; something Maiza had noticed long ago. If she could have that sort of influence over a man like Berga, the children she cared for very likely wouldn't dare disrespect her for fear of having her simply send a frosty glance towards them. At one point Don Molsa had commented that it was a pity that the woman was an Auror, as he would have loved adopting her into the Family. It was a position she had politely and firmly declined.

Mr. Weasley was currently fanning his wife with a newspaper, and the woman was now slowly coming to. Although she was still dazed, the woman kept staring at the Immortals with wide, cautious yet curious eyes.

"So you knew?" Shacklebolt questioned.

"Of course I did." Minerva answered simply and easily. "And I informed Professor Dumbledore of their status around the time I interviewed Mr. Firo for the Defense position at Hogwarts." Her tone left no room for argument or sign of willingness to answer any questions as to how she knew about Maiza and the others.

"Am I dreaming?" Tonks simply stared at the table in front of her. "This is all too surreal."

"You can perform magic and change your appearance; yet seeing a guy get up from a fatal bullet wound is too hard to believe?" Firo questioned with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"No one is  _supposed_  to  _get up_  from something like that!" Tonks shouted, waving her arms wildly and accidently whacking Lupin in the face. "Sorry, Remus."

"It's alright, Tonks." Lupin replied, as if barely even registering her.

"Is this even a good idea?" Bill appeared flushed as he was still trying to process the fact that the man he had just witnessed die was currently sitting across from him having a conversation as if nothing had even happened.

"That's a neat trick…"

Maiza slightly narrowed his eyes at Black because he felt sure that he saw a familiar glint in Black's eye that reminded him of Randy and Pecho when they decided to pull a prank or two. Maybe even Isaac and Miria when they were planning one of their elaborate heists. Best not give the man any ideas.

"The boy has a point," Moody growled, agreeing with Bill. "What if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named discovers that there are _actual_ Immortals running around Hogwarts or the Ministry? What will we do then? If you can survive a wound like that, imagine what'll happen if the Dark Lord had that kind of power!"

"He won't find out because none of you will be able to tell him, nor would any of us impart any secrets." Ronnie spoke evenly, looking mildly amused at the commotion surrounding them. The Demon entirely enjoyed himself too much when there was pandemonium.

Maiza chose to clarify before an argument of some kind could break out between them and the Order.

"Only six people that I know of actually know the ritual to become Immortal," he explained. He seemed to be doing quite a bit of that today. "Of those six, Firo, Ronnie and myself have the knowledge of the ritual _._ "

"What if the other three decide to impart some of their knowledge of this ritual to You-Know-Who or any of his followers?" Hestia Jones looked very green, and she couldn't seem to look at Maiza without turning a few shades greener.

"We would have heard of them if that were the case." Maiza was sure of it. The remaining Immortals that had taught him everything had either become more reclusive or had their own personal agenda. As far as Maiza knew, neither Renee nor Archangelo had made any moves within the magical community in America. Every natural born magic user would be talking about them, especially Renee, if that were the case. He hadn't even heard anything about them in the Mundane community. Wherever the odd pair was, they had remained in hiding for over thirty years.

"It took me years of study before she actually shared the knowledge with me." Maiza assured. "There are magical rules in place about even imparting said knowledge." Maiza thought of Gretto and all the friends he had lost to Szilard. Although he had long since forgiven himself for feeling like he was the cause of Gretto's and so many others' deaths, that didn't mean he was willing to impart any secrets concerning the Grand Panacea; war or no war – even if these natural born magic users hated him for it, consequences be damned.

Even though Minerva was a close and dear friend, not even she would be given the formula for the Grand Panacea. After living for well over 300 years, Maiza had become an expert in conveying certain facial expressions declaring intent without having to utter a single word. His expression hardened, and he allowed the anger he harbored towards Szilard and firm conviction to radiate off of his person. Maiza's intent was clear:

He would _not_ be sharing the ritual with the members of the Order, so don't bother trying to ask. Maiza allowed his voice to go cold, as he thought about that night aboard the  _Advenna Avis_. "My apologies…" his voice was quiet. "The last time I shared the knowledge…" Maiza's voice trailed off. Never again – that was what he had promised himself. "I _won't_ be making that mistake again."

Some years ago, Maiza had modified the spell that had been set on him in his ability to impart any knowledge of the alchemic ritual to anyone else – not that he could tell anyone that he had done so in the first place. He could feel their eyes on him; some curious, some understanding, while others were mildly suspicious.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," the Demon said with a smile as he casually brushed away invisible lint from his suit sleeve. That was enough of a distraction to not have the natural born magic users question Maiza. "We're extremely careful, and aren't stupid. Besides,Voldemort-" Ronnie cast a glance over the Order members, easily ignoring the shudders when he said the Dark Lord's name. Although, Ronnie was clearly pleased for being able to cause such fearful trembling in the magic users simply by uttering a simple name. "Would not only have to draw out the correct alchemical symbols, but he would also have to have all of the correct ingredients." Ronnie smirked. "That little book your Alchemist friend wrote not only lists the wrong ingredients, but is also missing some if not all of the essentials."

Ronnie seemed to be able to slightly ease the fears the natural born magic users had. "Seeing as how alchemy isn't very popular, even less so in Britain as time goes on, I highly doubt that he'll even consider alchemy a viable option."

The Order members nodded in agreement; Maiza and Ronnie both had a point.

"So, wait…" Bill now spoke, sounding very interested. "You said  _alchemy_  was the ritual you performed to get this whole immortality bit? How – "

Maiza was about to reply, but Dumbledore spoke for him.

"Apologies, Mr. Weasley," the old wizard said in a somber tone. "But our American friends here agreed to join the Order and assume the Defense position on the condition that none of us ask how they acquired their gift of Immortality."

Maiza glanced at Minerva and then to Dumbledore. None of them had ever made any kind of deal that involved those conditions. Maiza saw the temporary expression of regret and understanding on Dumbledore's features, which were directed at him. Giving Dumbledore a look of relief and thanks, Maiza turned his attention to the others.

"It's a long story." Maiza said in a tone that clearly showed his dislike of even thinking about it. He let his expression show his true feelings about the matter, and Bill who looked as if he was about to protest his disappointment quickly shut his mouth. Maiza could tell the others saw it too. He didn't like talking about it, but he himself had said revealing their Immortality was a sign of good faith.

"You deserve to know why at least." Maiza stared into nothingness as he thought about that night aboard the  _Advenna Avis._  "When we did the ritual…there were quite a few of us at the time. But one of my colleagues, he…He became consumed with knowing how to perform the ritual, even after he had obtained immortality. He killed my brother, friends, even people who had nothing to do with us. People were nothing but stepping stones to greater goals."

There was a sense of relief when Maiza saw understanding on the natural born magic users' faces. Firo and Ennis both looked uncomfortable, having had personal experience with the man. "He almost succeeded in killing me, but thankfully Firo and a few of the others were able to finally stop him."

An uneasy silence fell over the room, but thankfully Lupin came to the rescue within seconds.

"Would you mind telling us a little more about your wands?" Lupin asked, with genuine curiosity.

With a small smile at the welcome distraction, Maiza flicked his wrist so that his wand appeared in his hand. "This is my wand, Corazza – each of our wands has a name. Unfortunately, I can't reveal her true form to you, as this room is far too small for her. Plus, it would be far too risky…" Maiza returned Corazza to her resting place in his sleeve. "I'm not willing to risk anyone's life or limb just so they can see her true form."

That definitely sparked some interest in the natural born magic users, but no one asked any questions and how an Immortal's wand worked. That was a relief. It was yet another annoyingly complicated process. Depending on the circumstances, he could command Corazza not to harm a person. Unfortunately, the only way to reveal Corazza's true form would be if he were in some form of danger – in the sense of a  _magical_  threat that could bring potential harm to him.

There had been one too many close calls in the past had made each of the Immortals decide that it was better safe than sorry when it came to the creatures housed in the wands. Strangely, Isaac and Miria were the exception. They had such strong wavelengths with each other and their respective wands, they could call on their wands' true forms simply by calling out their names.

"I wonder…" Firo began, looking up at the ceiling in thought as he leaned back in his chair. Firo was precariously balancing on the back two legs of his seat, teetering to a point that Maiza wasn't the only one worried Firo might fall backwards.

"Yes, Mr. Firo?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"I was thinking," Firo rocked forward to set his chair properly, and now rested his elbows on the table. He was getting restless. "About our wands and the Dementors – we have spells that cause people to overlook us, why not try and do the same with those hooded freaks? If that doesn't work and you can't simply avoid them, why not just transfigure an object into a small animal and have people overlook it while the hooded creep goes after a potential meal? At least until _all_ of us are prepared to face them." Firo grinned as his fellow Immortals understood what he was getting at. "It should keep the thing distracted long enough without drawing attention to any of you, and we can just revert the transfiguration back to the object."

For the sake of the others, Maiza quickly explained, "When we transfigure an object into an animal, a piece of ourselves go into it. It's physically draining if you aren't skilled at that sort of transfiguration – and if the animal is destroyed, that bit of energy is gone for good. It can feel like getting punched in the gut when that happens."

Another downside to having that animal destroyed was that depending on how much energy was used, it forcefully required the user to go to sleep after a certain amount of time.

"I'm sure you can simply use a  _dimenticare_  spell on anyone who may catch you," Ennis smiled encouragingly. "Perhaps the people here who work at the Ministry can also modify memories, and someone from our end can go and act as backup as well."

"That would be great, Ennis!" Firo smiled and Ennis beamed at his praise. "It would cause all kinds of chaos, plus you can have any number of people telling different stories. Getting in and out won't be a problem."

Judging by their expressions, the Gandor brothers agreed with Firo. Even the likes of Lupin, Tonks and Shacklebolt were expressing interest and liking the young couple's plan.

"I do wish I had your blind faith and confidence sometimes, Firo." Maiza said with a sigh and a smile. Firo merely grinned and winked in response.

"I mostly just wing it and hope for the best," was Firo's upbeat reply.

"Oh, well, doesn't that just bolster our confidence in you all." Snape muttered dryly.

"We'd already be on high alert anyway, and it's not like they'd have free-roaming Dementors without someone fully supervising something so dangerous." Luck pointed out.

"Have you  _seen_  an office with more than three people in the last thirty years, Maiza?" Berga asked. "It's always pretty hectic, magical or not. People are probably in and out of there all the time. Who'd even pay attention to a few unfamiliar faces?"

Even Corazza was whispering in Maiza's ear that he worried far too much.

_/If you weren't immortal, you'd have gone gray by now with all that bothersome worrying that you do. Stop it, I'm getting antsy too/_

Maiza had to apologize to Corazza. But he had to point out that being too careful was what kept people safe; it was what kept them alive.

 _/True/_ Corazza shrugged. Or at least, she shrugged as well as a tortoise could manage. She smirked.  _/But we can easily defeat any Dementor or foolish natural-born magic user stupid enough to actually think that they can defeat someone like us. I will devour anyone who dares challenge us/_

Maiza grimaced. He reminded her that he didn't want to kill anyone – he truly was a pacifist, but if he had to –  _really_ had to, he was more than willing to take someone's life.

Corazza sighed.  _/Maiza, I admit that while I do not like leaving potential threats alive, I will do my best to spare the lives of fools who are foolish enough to challenge us. But understand that if left with no other choice, I_ _ **will**_ _kill them/_

Maiza understood. Any threat that could potentially end his being was a threat to Corazza, and her animalistic-survive-at-all-costs instinct was partially what had saved them against Szilard and his wand.

 _/Oh, and Maiza?/_ Corazza's tone held a hint of amusement.  _/I think you should focus on those magic users – they've been trying to get your attention for a while now/_

What?! For how long?

_/Right around the time we started our little chat. I think you were apologizing to me/_

Corazza cut off the link with a laugh. That little —

"Maiza!"

Maiza flinched when someone whacked him on the arm in order to get his attention. The Order members were looking at him curiously, while his fellow Immortals knew that he had been communicating with Corazza. Maiza released a heavy sigh. While Immortals could have casual conversation with the beings of their wands, intense discussions sometimes caused the wielder to enter a trance-like state. The same held true for the others, and even after 300 plus years, Maiza could still space out when he and Corazza spoke. That was why intense discussions were best saved for the times when they could be alone and undisturbed.

"Sorry," Maiza scratched the back of his head, mildly embarrassed and annoyed at Corazza. He scoffed when the Tortoise laughed at his expense. Very funny.

_/Yes, it was/_

"What was going on?" Black questioned, with his head cocked strangely, reminding Maiza of a dog for some reason.

Dumbledore seemed wholly unfazed. "It's quite alright, Mr. Avaro. I too have my moments where I drown out the world and everything and everyone in it. It's rather relaxing, wouldn't you say?" Maiza didn't have a chance to answer. "Why, I haven't had one of those moments in a good long while. Perhaps I shall when I return to Hogwarts."

The old man either didn't notice or ignored the confused and gawking stares he received with practiced ease and simply repeated the original question to Maiza.

"So, Messrs Avaro, Gandor and Mr. and Mrs. Prochainezo," he asked solemnly, "I humbly ask again: do you agree to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix in the fight against Voldemort?"

"Yes," Maiza answered, and his fellow Immortals quickly and easily followed suite.

"There are also members in our Families who are willing to help out as well if the time ever calls for it." Luck informed simply.

Tonks' eyes widened in disbelief as she exclaimed, "You mean that there are  _more_  of you guys?"

"Yes," both Maiza and Keith answered simultaneously - well, Keith's affirmation was more of a hum.

"Bless Merlin!" the girl declared in awe.

"Just  _how_  did you meet these people Minerva?" Lupin asked the old witch.

"It's a long story, really." Minerva spoke as if she were teaching a class. "It all started on a rainy day when three Muggle hooligans confronted me in an alley by the bar where Maiza and a few of the others work. We'll have more time to discuss it later, I'm sure."

"Gentlemen, and Mrs. Prochainezo," Dumbledore smiled as he rose from his seat and spread out his arms in welcome. "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Berga's Wand name:
> 
> Abbronzarsi – Bronze
> 
> Maiza's Wand name:
> 
> Corazza – Armor, Shell
> 
> Spells –
> 
> Luck's Spell(s) –
> 
> Bacchetta, lo farodiventerà – Wand, become light. (In this case, like a beacon)
> 
> Bacchetta, tornare alla normalità – Wand, return to normal
> 
> Firo's Spell(s) -
> 
> Segreto, non essere rivelato al di là di quelli presenti. Essi non parlano né scrivere di questo segreto; prenderanno questo segreto nella tomba. Essi possono rivelare nulla; nemmeno sotto minaccia di morte o di influenza. Segreto , da sigillare. –
> 
> Secret, do not be revealed beyond those present. They will not speak nor write of this secret; they will take this secret to their graves. They can reveal nothing; not even under threat of death or influence. Secret, be sealed.
> 
> Don Molsa's Spell(s) –
> 
> Sigaro, venire – Cigar, come
> 
> Pistola, vieni da me – Gun, come to me
> 
> Other –
> 
> Dimenticare - forget
> 
> Mia signora – my lady


	6. It would be Very Wise to Consider that When Demons and Wands are Suspicious, it is never a Good Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets the Americans, and their introductions are rather odd. In 1957, the Gandors have an issue with one of their men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /Wands speaking/

_1995_

When Czes emerged from the kitchen, he was quite satisfied with his little "disappointed at being left out" routine, and was sure the other adults bought it very nicely. Of course, it would be all the more hilarious once those magic users found out he wasn't as childish as they presumed him to be. Firo was going to share everything with him anyway, so he didn't have to worry about being left out of the loop. He knew that Dumbledore had some idea of their being Immortals, and it would very likely be shared with the rest of the Order. All Czes had to do was keep up the act of looking disappointed whenever he was around the  _children,_  along with pretending he had as much knowledge as they did on any Order matters.

"Oh, hello," a girl's voice interrupted Czes' thoughts.

He saw a girl standing halfway up the stairs who had the same vibrant red hair and freckles as the Weasley's he had just met. She had a small, curious smile on her face. It would be a pretty good guess that this girl was one of the couple's children as well. He wrinkled his nose. Why did it smell like someone had taken a dump out here? He decided to be polite and not mention the smell. He also decided not mention how the house looked like a demented hoarder lived there.

"Hi…" Czes responded shyly.

Even though he was over 300 hundred years old, his mind and body were often at odds with one another. He had the experience of someone living for over three centuries, but yet often handled that experience with the mentality of a normal ten-year-old boy. It could be so inconvenient at times. Thankfully, it was here the shy boy act would work to his advantage.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," Ginny said, walking the rest of the way down the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom, she held out her hand out for Czes to shake.

"Czeslaw Meyer," Czes said, accepting the handshake. "You can just call me Czes; everyone does."

"Nice to meet you, Czes," Ginny glanced at the door where the Order meeting was taking place. "So you got kicked out too, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Oh, hey," Ginny perked up. "Let's go upstairs and I'll introduce you to everyone!" She didn't let go of his hand as she lead him upstairs. Czes didn't bother to protest and followed after her as best he could with the awkward angle he was in and his smaller legs.

Czes glanced around at the various decorations, and he mentally cringed at the sight of strange-looking shrunken heads with large, pig-like ears, lining the wall like trophies. It was strange; the Weasley's didn't seem like people who would enjoy such a macabre collection. Why was all of this here, then?

As they were headed upstairs, they could hear people talking – or at least one person was talking – rather loudly, too. "…after all, I'm the one who saw Voldemort return!" Ginny openly winced at the name, and Czes rolled his eyes. He really didn't want to get into another one of  _those_  discussions. The angry rant of the speaker continued. "I'm the one who fought him! I'm the one who saw Cedric Diggory get killed!"

Was that Harry Potter? Ginny suddenly stopped, and Czes stopped just a step below the one she was standing on. He heard the other people in the room; one female and another male, both apologizing to the one he supposed was Harry, his suspicions were proven correct when Harry's name was used in an apology. After a few more minutes, things seemed to quiet down to a muffled conversation, and Ginny started leading Czes towards the room where an irate Harry Potter was.

Two loud cracks and surprised yells sounding from within the room almost made Czes pull back and grab his wand to defend himself.

"That's just Fred and George, my brothers," Ginny rolled her eyes at this. "They passed their Apparition test and now they're using it every chance they get. They have mum on her wit's end; they're probably depleting the years she has left even more..." They stopped just outside of the door, and Ginny pulled Czes back, and he felt her grip on his hand tighten ever so slightly. There was a hint of red on her cheeks that very nearly matched her hair.

"Let's just give Harry a few minutes more to calm down." Ginny said quickly and quietly.

"Okay," Czes whispered, as he put away his wand. He admittedly found himself smiling at George and Fred's comments to Harry. The pair sounded very interesting.

"Hello Harry, we thought we heard your dulcet tones." a voice stated very pleasantly.

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that mate, let it all out," a voice which sounded just like the first one added with a hint of laughter in his voice. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."

Czes covered his mouth with his free hand and snickered.

"Are George and Fred twins?" Czes whispered, and Ginny nodded quickly. She slightly backed away from the door, and took a few calming breaths. Why was she so nervous about going into the room?

Harry sounded irritable as he asked, "You two passed your Apparition test then?"

"With distinction," one of the twins added proudly.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," the voice of another boy pointed out.

"Time is Galleons, little brother," either George or Fred pointed out. "Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears – we're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."

"You'll want to be careful," the little brother sounded worried. "If Mum sees one of them again…"

"It's worth the risk," one of the twins said.

Ginny suddenly pulled Czes forward and led him into the room. As soon as they entered, Ginny motioned to what looked like a long, flesh-colored string. "It's no good with those, Mum's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door." Ginny sighed as she shrugged and continued. "Tonks told me how to find out. You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact, the door's been Impertubed. I've been flicking dung-bombs at it from the top of the stairs," (oh, that explained the smell) "and they just soar away from it. There's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to fit under the gap." Ginny looked annoyed at her last statement.

Instead of answering her, the conversation ceased and all eyes fell on Czes. Three redheads, two of which were freakishly identical, and a girl with frizzy brown hair observed him curiously. A boy with messy black hair and glasses eyed him almost suspiciously, but he too was obviously curious about the little kid who suddenly came in with Ginny.

Ginny quickly shut the door behind them as soon as they were all the way in the room.

"Who are you?" the youngest of the redheads asked, but Czes stared at the floor. He continued with his shy façade, and he dug toe of his tennis shoe into the floor.

"I-" He began, but was cut off by the girl, who gave the youngest ginger-boy a whack on the arm, and the boy sent an annoyed glare her way.

"Ronald! Be nice!" her scolding tone changed to one of welcome as she said, "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger."

The twins pushed their way forward, and held their hands out in greeting, although in such a way Czes had to hand his letter to Ginny and cross his arms so that he could shake their hands. "I'm Fred, this – " he nodded to his twin, "is George."

George grinned, and with a nod of his own head he indicated their little brother, "And that is Ronikins, our dear little brother."

"Don't call me that! It's Ronald!" Ronald sighed, looking at Czes. "Just call me Ron."

Czes thought that he caught a hint of begging in Ron's features for simply being called 'Ron.'

"Harry Potter," Harry said. He looked as if he was expecting something from Czes, but Czes figured that he was just waiting for him to introduce himself. "Czeslaw Meyer, but everyone just calls me Czes."

He failed to notice that Harry looked both confused and pleasantly surprised.

Harry extended a hand in greeting. Czes had just barely touched Harry's hand when a pain that felt like a bolt of burning electricity shot through his arm. He could feel his wand throbbing in the back of his mind, and Czes instinctively jerked away, holding his head in pain as his wand roared in protest.

_/THAT BOY IS A THREAT! HE HAS DARK MAGIC IN HIM!/_

Czes' eyes widened as he realized that Ingannare was furious and panicking and was about to devour the one and only Harry Potter in self-defense. Czes quickly widened the distance between himself and Harry, leaning against the far wall quietly muttering to both Ingannare and himself, "Calm down…calm down…"

The painful combination of his arm and head both very nearly caused him to pass out. His vision was actually swimming, but thankfully for only a moment. The Fox snarled.  _/I don't like him! Stay away from that boy. He has dark and unnatural magic within him!/_

"S-sorry…" Czes mumbled, trying to clear his head. He also tried to ignore that whispering voice of the Fox in the back of his head. Harry was still awkwardly standing with his hand out, although he was staring at it curiously and looked at Czes suspiciously.

"You just shocked me…you know, like static." What a lame-ass excuse. Only a complete idiot would believe that. What the hell was that anyway? Czes' hand still tingled with a pins-and-needles feeling.

"Quite the overreaction for getting a little shock," Harry replied flatly.

An awkward silence almost ensued, but that Hermione girl came to the rescue. "Wait, are you American?"

Czes responded with a nod unconsciously rubbing his right arm. "I grew up there."

"If you're from America, what are you doing here?" Ron asked. "Don't they have a magic school in America?"

"My brother-in-law is the new Defense teacher at Hogwarts," Czes explained with a half-hearted shrug.

"Your brother-in-law?" Ron repeated.

Czes rolled his eyes, his practical side emerging. "I believe I just said that. Minerva McGonagall is friends with Firo's mentor, Maiza. Since he wasn't able to take the position, Firo was tasked with the job."

"McGonagall told him, Firo that is, that the position's jinxed, right?" one of the twins spoke up.

"That's a vital bit of information, don't you think?" the other added.

"What do you mean, 'jinxed'?" Czes asked suspiciously. He was very protective of his family, and he didn't want anything to happen to them.

"It's been that way for years," Hermione answered.

Ron counted on his fingers, "One teacher was possessed, the next went crazy, the next was sacked, and the one after that was locked in his trunk for nearly the entire year while someone impersonated him. The second-to-last bloke was the best out of the lot of them, honestly."

"That doesn't matter." Czes shrugged. "Firo only agreed to teach for the term anyway, and besides, he's pretty strong. I wouldn't worry about him."

"Where's he now?" Harry inquired. Czes got the feeling that Harry was suspicious of Firo. It certainly hadn't helped that he had had a crazy knee-jerk reaction to simply shaking Harry's hand.

"Downstairs with Big Sister," Czes didn't mind letting a look of frustration cross his features. "There were a bunch of people in there, and they kicked me out and told me to come up here with the other  _children."_

"They don't tell us anything either, so don't feel too bad." Harry muttered. "Especially  _me."_

"Don't start on that again, mate," Ron insisted.

"What are Americans doing being part of the Order anyway?" Hermione asked. "I thought that the magical communities of the two countries didn't really like each other?"

That comment caused Harry to look from Czes to Hermione in surprise, then back to Czes with mild suspicion mixed in with his curiosity. How annoying.

"Mr. Dumbledore and a few other people kept saying something about diversity or whatever at Hogwarts." Czes shrugged indifferently. He didn't particularly care about the relations or politics between magical communities as long as they didn't directly affect him or his beloved family. But in this case, they very well could be affected.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Ginny spoke up. They all turned to her. She smiled at Czes excitedly. "This is a Hogwarts letter! You didn't say you were attending!"

"I…didn't know…" Czes took the envelope and opened it, saying, "I just thought that I'd be taking private lessons from Firo and Big Sister…" in order to explain why he hadn't gotten the letter sooner and why it was a surprise.

Sure enough, he had an invitation to Hogwarts. Having someone in a teaching position along with someone attending as a student was actually a pretty smart move. It would only direct and divide unwanted attention elsewhere even more. Czes had to give Dumbledore credit for thinking up something like that.

"Congratulations!" Hermione and Ginny chorused.

"Well aren't you lucky!" the twin Czes believed to be George said.

"You get to experience a lovely year full of drama." Fred grinned.

"I wonder what House you'll be in." Hermione looked thoughtful.

Czes eyed the list of things that were required for school, and knew that a trip to Diagon Alley was in his future. He read a few of the things he needed out loud, and stopped.

"Well, I already have a wand…Seriously, I need a cauldron?"

Ugh. How annoying. It wasn't the fact he'd be stuck learning about potions, but rather he'd be lugging around a cauldron. There was such a thing called pots (which were much easier to transport and use, by the way) and people used gas instead of electricity or some sort of fire magic. Some American wizard had told him that the flames under cauldrons were less reliable and harder to control. These people really enjoyed making life more difficult for themselves, didn't they?

"Obviously you need one if you're taking Potions," Hermione pointed out. She paused. "Americans  _do_  have classes on how to make potions, don't they?"

"Well, I never learned it because there hasn't really been any real need to do so," Czes shrugged. Potion making could probably be useful. As he continued reading what items were needed for his classes, Hermione wanted to speak up, but Ron beat her to it.

"You didn't need to learn about potions? That's some form of amazing luck!" Ron's voice held a hint of jealousy. "Our potions professor is worse than a Blast-Ended Scroot's arse."

No one in the room seemed to have any objections to that.

Czes shrugged. "I know a few spells that pretty much mimic how some potions work."

"What?!" Various voices sounded in surprise.

"Why is it such a shock…?" Czes questioned genuinely. "There  _are_ different forms of magic, you know. There's also such a thing as improvisation."

"Oh, I think Snape'll definitely have it out for your brother-in-law," Ron stated gravely.

"Ol' Snape has always wanted the DADA position for years –" Fred whistled.

" –Even back before  _we_  were first years," George finished.

Czes rolled his eyes. "Just because I know a few spells that can replace the need to make a particular potion doesn't mean I, or anyone for that matter, should consider potions obsolete or unnecessary."

"Can your brother-in-law," Hermione started, "what did you say his name was-"

"Firo," Czes answered.

"Can Professor Firo perform those spells you were talking about; mimicking how potions work?" Hermione's eyes held a look of wonder and curiosity.

"Yes, he's even more skilled at it than I am." That was certainly saying something. Devouring someone who had absorbed the skills and knowledge of thirteen magic users gave an Immortal quite the advantage.

"The new professor not only took the DADA position-" George began, and Fred grinned as he finished, "-He's making the need for potions irrelevant."

How did the twins manage that? Czes was briefly reminded of an eccentric pair of thieves.

"I didn't say that…" Czes said flatly as everything he had just said in favor of potions was apparently going to go ignored. Whatever. He went back to looking over everything he would require as a first-year. He had to wonder why it was so imperative that no first-years were allowed to have a broom at Hogwarts – who in their right mind would want to have a broom in the first place? The ability to fly be damned, Czes honestly hated all of the natural-born magic users' crazy ideas of transportation. He reached his booklist and began looking it over. He already had most of these books, so thankfully there was no need – his eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed.

"What is this?" he asked with a dangerous tone in his voice.

"What, that?" George asked. "Why, that my good man-"

Fred finished with, "-Is what we call a booklist."

"Yeah, I have the same aversion to reading as you," Ron joked. "Although the only one of us that's actually happy with a booklist that long is ol' 'Mione here."

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Czes very nearly shouted. "I mean, what is this?!"

He pointed to the list of books that were required for Firo's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and his finger rested on a book titled,  _Magical Theory_   _by Adalbert Waffling_.

"Looks like that's just one of the many books your lovely brother-in-law says you'll need for his classes," Ron said, sounding bitter. "This year's going to be killer, what with the O.W.L.s and all. I know I'm not looking forward to  _our_ lists..."

"I was  _there_ when Firo selected the course books," Czes said, looking at all of them, confused, and demanding an explanation. "Firo didn't select that one, and he said himself that it was pretty much useless. So why is a book that he didn't even select be on the list?"

"…I don't know." Hermione admitted after a moment or two had passed. "Perhaps it's part of the course material…"

"Maybe it's a mistake?" Ginny wondered. "Perhaps it was accidentally added?"

"I'm going to ask him as soon as we get back downstairs," Czes determined. Czes knew it wasn't a mistake, at least on Firo's part.

The conversation came to a halt when they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"Uh-oh," Fred gave the Extendable Ear a quick tug just as the voice of Mrs. Weasley sounded up the stairs.

"The meeting's over, you can come and have dinner now!"

The twins let out a simultaneous whistle of relief.

"Shame though," Fred muttered.

"We really fancied what the Order and Snape were up to." George finished.

"Wait, Snape is  _here?"_  Harry went wide-eyed.  _"He's_  part of the Order?"

"Yeah," George nodded. "Always giving these top-secret reports."

"Great," Harry sighed.

"We should get downstairs now," Hermione spoke up, and walked towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder at everyone as she opened the door, showing that she fully expected them to follow her.

Czes simply squeezed his letter and walked towards the door, silently trailing behind the others as they went downstairs for dinner.

_oOo***oOo_

As Harry walked with the entire procession down the stairs towards the kitchen, he briefly wondered why Czes had reacted the way he had when they went to shake hands. The boy acted as if he had felt genuine pain to the point of nearly passing out. No one had ever acted like that towards him before. Well, maybe Professor Quirrell. But Czes even seemed just as surprised as he was at jerking away, and even gave an apology. But the boy muttering to himself again reminded Harry of one turban-wearing, stuttering professor. He was curious about Professor Firo and his wife, Ennis. What kind of people were they? What kind of magic didn't require potions?

Needless to say, Harry of course was wary. He couldn't get a very good read on Czes. On one hand, the boy acted very polite and even shy. On the other, he seemed to be indifferent and acted as if he knew more than he let on, with an air of arrogance. Harry was pretty sure the kid would be in Slytherin. He would probably even make a bet worth a few Galleons with Ron and the twins. He was sure that Hermione would disapprove. Need not tell her, then.

Mrs. Weasley was waiting for everyone at the bottom of the stairs, and she smiled at each of them. "Well, we'll be eating in the kitchen – OH!"

Harry and Czes both jumped as two loud cracks sounded and the twins were standing behind their mother.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, YOU TWO! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP OUT YOUR WANDS FOR EVERYTHING!"

The twins laughed. Harry noticed that Czes winced slightly at Mrs. Weasley's irate shouting. He smiled to himself as he overheard Czes muttering under his breath, "These magic users are insane…"

Magic users? Hmm. That must be what they were called in America or something.

Mr. Weasley approached them and placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "You sure you're alright, Harry? You gave us quite a scare."

Harry nodded and was about to say something just as another voice spoke up, "Harry Potter,"

"Sirius!" Harry was overjoyed to see the man, and he immediately ran over to hug him.

When they separated, Sirius smiled, "Right then. I don't know about you lot, but I'd like some dinner before midnight."

As they crowded into the kitchen, Sirius was inquiring about Harry's journey. "Old Mad-Eye didn't try to make you come via Greenland, did he?"

"He tried," Harry responded with a smile. "But Tonks managed to talk him out of it."

"Let's be glad she did," Sirius replied with a laugh.

As they entered the dining room, Harry quickly noticed that Dumbledore wasn't there. He shouldn't be surprised. Harry instead took notice of all the unfamiliar faces: two very intimidating-looking men sat across from Remus, one of whom looked so stern Harry swore the man made Snape's usual scowl look close to half-welcoming. The second man reminded Harry somewhat of his Uncle Vernon in terms of size, but unlike Vernon and quite the opposite in fact, this man appeared to be a mass of muscle.

Another man was conversing with Tonks, and the witch was laughing at whatever he must have said, and his smile pretty much seemed to be friendly and welcoming. A fourth man was talking to Mad-Eye, and to be honest the mere sound of the man's smooth voice sent shivers up Harry's spine. Oddly, the chilled feeling reminded him of Dementors. But that was just, dare he say it…crazy. Harry internally shivered and shoved the thought to the back of his mind. He'd had enough of Dementors for one night, thank you very much. Besides, how could a wizard give him such an absurd idea? Harry simply figured that he must be more tired than he thought. It  _had_  been a stressful night.

A man with glasses was talking to Remus, although their conversation stopped as soon as Remus saw Harry and the latter immediately stood with a smile on his face. Harry smiled back just as wide. Harry had to guess that the last couple of people he didn't recognize were his new professor and Czes' older sister.

He and Remus gave each other a quick hug, along with Remus giving Harry a few loving pats on the back. Harry grinned up at Remus as he released him. It was good to see his former Professor again.

The twins both gave Harry a light bump on either side as they passed him and walked straight up and announced themselves very cordially to the new people sitting at the table as if they were putting on a presentation.

"This is Fred," George motioned to his brother.

"This is George," Fred mirrored his brother.

"We were told by the lovely ikkle Czesikins," Fred continued with solemnity, and Harry smiled at Czes who cringed and rolled his eyes at the nickname.

"-That one Firo was going to be our newest Defense Professor." George finished with the same air of solemnity.

"Which one of you has the dire misfortune-" Fred gloomily shook his head with a dramatic flair.

"-Of taking up the accursed position-" George lamented, with dramatics equal to that of his brother.

"-While having the likes of us in your class?" Fred finished, tenderly placing the back of his hand to his forehead as if he were a distressed maiden.

"That would me," Firo casually waved, confirming Harry's assumptions correct. The professor's eyes glanced between the twins as if studying them. "Firo Prochainezo, but please call me Firo. We aren't at school yet."

"Nice to meet you, Firo!" Fred and George simultaneously shook Firo's hand.

"It's so nice to have a professor who doesn't take himself too seriously," George grinned.

"Unlike a certain Professor of potions," Fred grinned equal to that of his brother.

Firo glanced down at his hand which the twins were still shaking. "Right…"

"Leave him alone, you two!" Molly's voice called out.

"Or like that of our dearest mother," George quipped.

"Fred! George!" Molly gave both boys a light smack on their shoulders. "Sit down, both of you!"

"I'm not Fred, he is!" Fred insisted as both he and George finally released Firo's hand to face their mother.

"And she calls herself our mother," lamented George to Firo with a "tsk, tsk, tsk."

Molly groaned exasperatedly. "Just sit down whoever you are."

"Just kidding," Fred cheered, as he sat down.

"Congratulations, mum!" George sat down as well.

"You were right about me being Fred!" Fred applauded.

"At least this time, you were." George agreed.

"Oh, Merlin…" Molly sighed, "You two are going to send me to an early grave."

"Don't worry Mum, we'll say only good things about you at your eulogy."

The Americans watched the exchange between a mother and her sons with amusement.

"So are you deterred yet?" George questioned Firo as he sat down.

"From teaching at Hogwarts when you have us to deal with for an entire term?" Fred looked on expectantly as he took a seat as well.

"You two are actually pretty tame compared to some friends of ours." Firo smiled fondly as he thought about said friends.

"What? There are people out there who actually rival… _them?"_  Ron asked, in baffled awe.

"They're a couple – Isaac and Miria," Firo laughed. "You know how couples can finish each other's thoughts and sentences and stuff? Those two have the routine down pat; they have a really tight and crazy chemistry. You two actually remind me of them, now that I think about it – after dealing with the likes of them, you two are a walk in the park."

Oh. Firo shouldn't have said that. Fred and George would see it as a challenge – and see it as a challenge they did.

"Did, you hear that, George?"

"Why, yes, Fred. Yes, I did."

"I do believe the good Professor Firo-"

"-Has issued us a challenge."

Both twins shared a conspiring grin as they looked at Firo. Firo only grinned back, and smiled deviously, looking truly as if he were looking forward to whatever shenanigans Fred and George would more than happily provide. "Bring it on."

"Yes, sir!" Fred and George chorused happily.

Harry looked at Remus and Sirius who both were in equal pleasant surprise that someone who was going to be a professor was actually encouraging Fred and George to prank them – and was probably just as willing to return those pranks in kind. Just who had Professor McGonagall offered the DADA position to?

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger," the girl gushed as she approached Firo before the twins could accost him any longer. Was she-she was blushing! Harry rolled his eyes. He silently begged for this not to be another Lockhart situation. Apparently Ron saw this too and gave Harry an irritated glance. Harry only nodded knowingly. "I've never seen some of the books you're recommending for our course work before, so I'm very excited to get started!"

She quickly took a seat besides Ennis and introduced herself again. Ennis smiled in a friendly manner. "Nice to meet you Hermione,"

"So, Prof-Firo, sir," Ron began, as he stood next to Harry. "How old are you exactly? All of the Professors at Hogwarts are pretty much old fogies – since Lupin left, that is."

Molly wasn't in the dining room at the moment; otherwise Harry was sure that the woman would have scolded Ron without a second thought for saying such a thing.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed as she turned in her seat to glare at him.

Firo let out a snort before saying, "I'm twenty-two, going on twenty-three in a few months."

"Blimey!" Ron gaped. "You're younger than Charlie!"

"You'll have to forgive our brother, Ronald –" George sadly shook his head.

"–Alas, he has the manners of a Neanderthal when it comes to meeting civilized people." Fred mourned.

Ron turned towards his brothers in protest, while the youngest and only girl of the Weasley clan made her presence known.

"Hello…" Ginny said shyly, from her seat. "I'm Ginevra, but most everyone calls me Ginny."

Firo grinned at her and gave a small wave.

Harry finally walked over to introduce himself as well, "Harry Potter," he reached out to shake Firo's hand, as he was the closest of the new arrivals. "Nice to meet –" Firo began. Their fingertips had barely brushed each other when Firo suddenly flinched back, gripping his hand in pain.

"Oh, shit!" Firo's eyes widened as he knocked over his chair trying to widen the distance between himself and Harry. Harry just stared in disbelief. The twins looked equally confused and their eyes glanced between Firo and Harry, as if they weren't sure whether they should be laughing or not. The other Americans had either paused in their conversations to glance curiously between Firo and Harry, or they rose in their seats as if looking for a potential enemy.

This seriously couldn't be happening  _again._  And this was coming from his  _professor._

"Firo?" his wife questioned with concern.

Just as with Czes, Firo was muttering to himself, "Calm down…it's alright, calm down." Everyone's attention was now on Harry and Firo, but Firo didn't seem to notice.

"What the hell?" Firo stared at his hand in confusion. "What  _was_  that?" He asked no one in particular. Firo suddenly winced again and started to massage his temples. "Dammit, calm down already, will you?"

Harry now felt very uncomfortable and irritated. First Czes, now Professor Firo. Just  _why_  did both of them have such violent reactions to simply shaking his hand? Was it some kind of prank they had conspired? If so, it wasn't very funny.

"Firo, what happened?" Ennis asked, and Firo shook his head.

"I have no idea, one second I'm reaching out to shake the kid's hand, and the next it feels as if my arm's on fire."

"Are you both alright?" a voice from behind Harry inquired, but both the asker and Harry jumped – Harry even more so when that unsettling voice from earlier suddenly called out,

"Maiza, don't touch him!"

Harry and Maiza, the latter of whom had his hand just inches from Harry's shoulder, both turned to the man whose voice made Harry really uncomfortable. He was standing about a foot away from Harry having moved from his spot by Mad-Eye where Harry had initially seen him. The man was tall and thin with fairly light hair, and he smelled faintly of cigarettes. His eyes…Harry swore that it felt as if this man's eyes were staring straight through him.

The man suddenly grabbed Harry's chin and stared into his eyes making Harry want to look away. But Harry didn't want this man to know how much he actually scared him. He was about to question why the man was holding his face before the man suddenly pushed Harry's hair back to look at his scar. The man easily ignored everyone around them demanding to know why he had his hands on Harry.

"Get your hands off my godson!" Harry barely even registered hearing Sirius shout, because those eyes terrified him.

"H-hey…" Harry started to protest, but the man stopped him.

With dangerously narrowed eyes, the man asked, "How did you get this scar?"

"When-when Voldemort tried to kill me, obviously." Harry couldn't help let out a hint of sass for what should have been common knowledge by now. "It's from the killing curse."

The man didn't even blink upon hearing Voldemort's name, unlike the other people in the room. Not even Maiza showed a sign of discomfort upon hearing the accursed name. Harry would have thought it was odd, if it were not for the fact he was currently staring into the eyes of one very unsettling man.

"No," the man was staring at the scar with disgust equal to that of Snape looking upon a hapless Gryffindor. "It is and it isn't. Tell me boy; does it ever hurt? As in it pulses and feels alive, as if something is trying to claw its way out?"

Harry froze. That had been happening since his first year at Hogwarts. It had gotten even worse since Voldemort's return. "…Yes."

"Have you had strange dreams and sudden emotions that don't necessarily feel like yours as well?"

Harry nodded slowly. He had had visions of long, dark tunnels, of people in dark robes and masks…and the scar had been hurting more frequently with even more intensity as well.

The man's frown deepened. "I see. Don't go anywhere after dinner. We need to talk – in private."

Harry somewhat lost his balance as the man released him, and he turned to the other Americans, "Don't any of you touch the boy, be very careful."

Sirius was now in the man's face, who didn't even look fazed as his godfather confronted him.

"Mr. Black," the man said before Sirius could even get a word out. "I'll need to speak with you as well. Is there a room here where we could talk privately? It would also do if it was large enough to hold more than eight people with enough room to move around."

"Yes…" Sirius stiffened, but he was obviously still in a fighting mood. "Why?"

"Because…that scar is unnatural," the man was focused on Harry's scar with loathing. "It has a cruel darkness surrounding it."

Harry's hand subconsciously went to his scar. No one had ever looked at his scar in that manner before. It had always been people wanting to see it so they could "oh" and "ah" over it. It honestly worried him because of how the man had looked at his scar with such loathing

The man's demeanor suddenly did a 180 as he now smiled cordially at Harry saying, "Please forgive my manners, I should have introduced myself. I'm Ronnie Schiatto. Pleasure to finally meet you."

"That was some crazy introduction." Ron not-so-quietly whispered to Hermione, from his seat at the table.

Everyone was staring at Ronnie now, with curiosity and slight suspicion on their features.

"He likes to leave a lasting impression when meeting new people," Firo shrugged with a smirk. "I guess we all do."

"It's certainly true," Ronnie calmly took his seat once again.

"Sorry about that," Firo said to Harry as he up-righted his chair and took a seat as well. "I've never had anything like that happen before…"

Maiza gave Harry an awkward wave as he wasn't willing to go against Ronnie's orders not to come into contact with Harry for whatever reason it was. "I'm Maiza Avaro; I'm an old friend of Minerva's."

"Really?" Harry perked up. "How long have you known her? Were you a student of hers?"

Maiza chuckled. "You could say that I was something of a student. We've known each other for quite a few years."

Harry wondered how long Professor McGonagall had known Maiza for him to be on a first-name basis with her.

As Harry introduced himself to the rest of the Americans, he found it both odd and comforting that none of them acted star-struck and asked to see and marvel at his scar, or overwhelming him with questions on just how he defeated the Dark Lord. It was also a relief that none of them were treating him like some sort of pariah.

One of the stern men introduced himself with nothing more than a cordial nod, and the large muscular man smirked, "The name's Berga Gandor." He jabbed a thumb at the scowling man, "That's Keith; he's our older brother," Berga then threw an arm around the man who had been conversing with Tonks, saying, "And this here's our baby brother, Luck."

Luck merely rolled his eyes as he pulled himself out from under Berga's large arm. He turned his attention to Harry and the others and smiled. It made Harry uncomfortable for some reason he couldn't place. What was it with these Americans that made him feel so unsettled?

"Nice to meet all of you," Luck's smile turned very pleasant upon meeting Harry, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley clan.

His friendliness and tone briefly made Harry wonder how he could possibly be related to Keith and Berga. They really did seem like polar opposites in terms of personality. He noted that although both Keith and Berga were stern, they were in no way like Snape, and they both were much more pleasant than the greasy potions professor combined ten times over.

"Hello, I'm Ennis, Firo's wife." the young woman smiled pleasantly as she introduced herself for the umpteenth time. "It is very nice to meet you."

Harry smiled back at her; she really did seem to be very friendly as well.

As everyone took their seats around the table and things settled down, Czes marched right up to Firo saying, "Firo, look at this!" as he showed him the Hogwarts entrance papers.

"Heya, kid!" Firo greeted cordially as he placed his left hand on Czes' head. Czes seemed to freeze for a second or two before he nearly shoved the contents of the letter in Firo's face a second time.

"Huh? What's all this?" Firo questioned, taking them from the boy.

"I got into Hogwarts, yeah, yay me." Czes brushed off the question, honestly not caring less about the fact that he had gotten into a very prestigious magic school. "But that's not what matters, look at this!"

Czes pointed at one of the papers. "This is on the list of books required for taking your class."

"What the…why the hell is  _that_  book on here? I said it was bullsh…" Firo stopped and cleared his throat when he caught Molly's stern glance. "I said it was useless."

"Which one is that?" Tonks inquired.

"That Magical Theory book by some guy," Firo snorted in derision. "Theory does you no good in a real fight." Turning back to Czes, Firo added, "We certainly aren't buying that when we go get your stuff from Diagon Alley."

"Uhm, excuse me…" Hermione spoke up nervously, not liking to contradict her professors. Most of the time. "It's a required course material…if Czes wants to stay out of trouble…"

"Not from me it isn't." Firo huffed. "I'm sure as hell not buying it. I'm not gonna waste my money, and you shouldn't waste yours; because I'm not wasting anyone's time with theoretical bullshit."

Ron snorted his pumpkin juice, Hermione's jaw dropped, the twins snickered, Ginny blushed and busied herself with filling her plate, and Harry hid a smile behind his hand. Firo certainly wasn't like any of their other professors, that was for sure. Awkward introductions aside, everyone filled their plates and prepared for the meal.

That was when Luck turned his attention to Harry. "I've heard very many interesting things about you, Mr. Potter."

Harry stiffened, because he was sure that Luck was going to start off with either asking about Voldemort or Cedric. He was pleasantly surprised when Luck asked him,

"So I hear that you are on your school's Quidditch team, is that correct?"

"Yes," Harry smiled, relieved. "I'm the Seeker. Have you ever seen a game?"

"I haven't, actually." Luck shrugged. "Never really had the opportunity."

"Oh, you should come to the World Cup that they're having in a few years!" Ron said excitedly. "Or you could come to one of the Quidditch matches we have at Hogwarts!"

Luck smiled. "Perhaps. I heard that you," he indicated Harry, "were allowed to play on your team during your first year." Luck continued. "You must be very skilled for them to have made such an exception."

"Well, Professor McGonagall actually  _insisted_  that I be allowed to play," Harry started excitedly. "I'm really glad that she did."

"Did she? Minerva really is a kind woman, isn't she?" Luck smiled again. There was a genuine look of fondness in his expression.

"Yeah," Harry had to agree. Now he was even more curious. "How well do you know Professor McGonagall if you're on a first-name basis with her?"

Harry only knew of a select few others who actually called Professor McGonagall by her first name – more like she  _permitted_  them to call her by her first name. It seemed that the Americans were among those that Professor McGonagall had so graciously chosen as being permitted to use her first name.

"We've been friends for years, actually." Luck stated. "She is an admirable woman."

Luck was genuine in his admiration as well, Harry noticed. Plus, the talk of Quidditch had also made Harry feel more at ease. The conversation moved on to a variety of other subjects; such as everyone's summers and what they were looking forward to during the coming year.

Tonks also showed off her Metamorphmagus ability, and during one of her transformations, she turned her nose into that of a pig's. Harry was reminded of his cousin, Dudley. Everyone was very nearly breathless with laughter at her impersonations.

Tonks than took her impersonations a step farther by turning into Keith Gandor, complete with his stern scowl and glare.

"I'm Keith Gandor and I don't like you having fun." Tonks-Keith said in all seriousness.

"Wow that's just like you, Keith!" Berga guffawed as he slapped his brother on the shoulder. So that was how Keith's voice sounded. He noticed that Keith wasn't laughing, but he didn't seem to be angry either. He merely glanced at Berga after having his shoulder slapped and simply went back to observing Tonks.

Maiza did a very poor job of hiding his laughter, while Luck smirked at his brother. The others laughed at the impersonation, and Harry thought he heard one of them say, "If only Claire could see this. He'd love it."

"How about this?" Tonks-Keith asked, and with an enthusiastic smile said, "Let's go out for a night on the town, boys!"

The smiles of the Americans instantly fell.

"That's…disconcerting." Berga shivered.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one seriously freaked out by a smiling Keith…" Firo looked really uncomfortable.

"I've never seen my brother smile like that…" Luck made a face. _"…ever._ Please don't do that again, Ms. Tonks."

"I'd be worried if I ever saw Keith happy, to be honest…" Maiza sent Keith a sideways glance.

Tonks turned back to her usual self, and looked at Keith with a cocked eyebrow. "You're a really uptight bloke, aren't you?"

Keith only shrugged.

"Of course you'd say that, Keith." Luck shook his head. For the sake of the others, Luck explained offhandedly, "He doesn't think it really matters. He's the Head of our family, so it's not like he has to be friends with everyone."

It was interesting how Keith didn't even have to say a word for his brothers to understand him. Harry had to wonder what happened in the brothers' lives to cause Keith to become the way he had. Well, it probably didn't really matter, Harry figured. Keith seemed like a decent enough man – he  _was_  helping out the Order after all, and he was American.

The dinner was finished off with a dessert of rhubarb and custard, and not once, did anyone bring up Voldemort or ask Harry about Cedric. It was truly a relief. Harry wished the moment would have lasted longer than it did.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1957_

" _Our guest is out waiting in the car. Should I bring him in?"_

_Maiza nodded. "Yes," then Maiza turned back to Minerva. "I'm afraid that something's come up. Can we reschedule?"_

" _I'll be busy for the next few days, I believe." Minerva answered after thinking for a moment. "I suppose I'll come by sometime next week, around the same time; 6:00."_

" _See you then," Maiza said as he escorted her out._

" _Until next week, I guess." Minerva gave a small wave._

Keith Gandor was not happy. He was feeling rather livid, to be honest. It had been a very long and terrible five days. Paonazzo could feel Keith's irritation, but he made no move nor said anything to be of any comfort. Keith was justified in his anger, after all. Selling drugs was something he and his brothers were very much against, as they ruined lives. Keith had witnessed it personally. He had seen people reduced to a walking corpse as they resorted to stealing and selling themselves and even family members so that they could get more money for the various substances and wake up in their own bodily fluids only to repeat the process. He had seen it when the veins in their arms were so shot they had to resort to shooting up on their ankles and in between their toes. Even his brothers had stories that made them apprehensive about dealing drugs.

Keith hated the stuff. He and his brothers had always made it very clear to anyone and everyone who was partnering up with them in any way that the Gandors _didn't_ deal with drugs. They wouldn't go near them. Any sign of drugs, and any deals they had with anyone was instantly off.

Their troubles started a little over a week ago when one of their workers had unwittingly discovered drugs hidden within one of their shipments of alcohol, and he had quickly reported it to one of the brothers. After some investigating, Keith and his brothers had found that Irving Gambino – someone that they had trusted and had been one of the few appointed to be in charge of their outgoing alcohol shipments, was using their resources for the distribution of cocaine. Apparently he had been using their facilities to ship out drugs for a few months now, and had even been selling in the Martillo Family's territory. Not only that, he was shipping and handling for a rival Family – headed by two brothers known as the Shapiro Twins.

That was a fact that truly made Keith uncomfortable and very angry.

Yes, Keith was willing to admit that he and his brothers and the people in their Family could get violent – but there was always a time and a place for it. The Shapiro Twins would be violent because they reveled in it. Even Claire, as violent as he could become, had a sense of honor as twisted as it was – but the Shapiro Twins believed that violence solved every problem, and the only reason their territory had expanded the way it had was because of their violent ways.

One of the brothers, Abe, liked targeting random civilians and killing them for fun – or maybe it was because a person simply looked at him wrong. The other brother, Reles, had a short temper. He had bludgeoned people over the simplest of things; over any possible slight that he perceived as being disrespectful to him. They had been threatening, mutilating and murdering their way throughout the various territories of New York throughout the years. The Shapiro Twins had left Little Italy and overall Manhattan alone, very likely because of the Gandor and Martillo Family's influences. And then one Irving Gambino had opened the door for them.

There had been a few instances within the past few days where civilians who worked and lived in Little Italy and various areas of Manhattan were attacked. The attacks had the Shapiro Twins' signature written all over them. They had made sure of it. Although, there were more than a few deaths that struck Keith as odd; he just couldn't place why. Too many of them seemed like accidents that should have been avoidable. But Keith had other things on his mind.

It was not the fact that the Twins were encroaching themselves into the Gandor and Martillo Family's territories that had Keith angry. It was the fact that they were dragging innocent civilians into their incursion.

At that moment, Irving Gambino was lying tied up on the plastic tarp-covered cement floor in the basement of their place of business. Tick Jefferson stood off to the side and patiently waited for his turn with a smile on his face as Berga gave Irving a swift kick to the gut. Irving coughed and gagged, spitting up blood.

Keith lit a cigarette and took a much-needed drag from it. "You knew the rules."

Although Keith was honestly infuriated, he knew how to keep his cool.

"'...We informed you of them the day you said you wanted to join us. You betrayed our trust. There are people in our Family who would love to have the occupation you were appointed to.'" Luck said for Keith because Irving couldn't understand what any of his subtle gestures meant. 

Irving glanced at them with the eye that wasn't swollen shut.  _Fear_. The fact that Keith who was mostly silent and only spoke when he either had something of significance to say or when he was truly angry was speaking to  _him._  Irving was certainly not stupid enough to not realize how much trouble he was in. He was not foolish enough to get caught; he was foolish enough to think that he wouldn't.

Keith exhaled a trail of smoke.

"'No drugs. Of all people to start dealing drugs with, you just had to go to the Shapiro Twins.'" 

"Y-you can  _(cough-cough)_  can't kill m-me," Irving said as he spit up more blood. "I'm invaluable…"

"Eh, why's that?" Berga demanded with his fists clenched. His brother clearly wanted to pull out his wand or break Irving's legs. Keith was pretty much considering letting him.

With a few ragged and breathy laughs, Irving said, "Because of the  _(cough-cough)_ the deal…they use our…" Irving paused as if considering his words then continued. "Your resources…the product is han— _(cough)_ handed over to the Twins on the promise they'll be d-delivered. Basically, they have dangerous friends that  _(cough-cough)_ that think that the…the Gandor Family is res— _(cough)_ responsible for getting and delivering the drugs."

"They  _what?"_  Luck's tone was hard and cold.

Keith glared.

Berga scoffed.

"If you kill me," Irving seemed to think he now had the upper hand, therefore he was gaining more confidence and the fear was foolishly disappearing. "When those guys come looking  _(cough-cough-cough)_ trying to figure out why their shit hasn't been delivered,  _your_  door is the one they'll be knocking on."

"What kind of 'dangerous'?" Luck asked.

"Goldstein." Irving actually had the nerve to smirk. "Just to name a few.  _(Cough)"_

Keith was silently fuming. The Goldstein Family was based out of Chicago, and both father and son were very violent. But the son was notorious for having temper tantrums when things didn't go his way that often resulted in numerous people going to the hospital. Since the son barely even got a slap on the wrist for destruction of personal property and assault, it was very likely his father had police, judges, and lawyers in his pocket and likely paid the injured's party to go away. The real concern was the fact that the son would purposely go out of his way to hunt people down who had wronged him or his family. If what Irving claimed was true, then it was very likely that they would have an uninvited guest in the near future.

Keith scoffed. In a perfect world, he could simply take the least violent route and hand the drugs back to the Shapiro Twins and they would understand that the Gandor Brothers didn't like dealing in drugs. Having the product was better than having no product at all. But the Twins had either persuaded Irving or Irving had approached them – either way, the Twins had encroached themselves into the Gandor's territory and were trying to step into the Martillo's as well. Plus, the Twins weren't exactly people who liked being told 'no'.

While Keith honestly would have preferred to take the least violent action, his options were limited. He sighed heavily, and then nodded to Tick. Take care of him.

"Of course, Mr. Gandor," Tick smiled as he pulled out his wand; its sleek, black wood glistened even in the faint light. "With pleasure."

"NO!  _(cough-ack-cough)_ I'm invaluable! You  _can't_ kill me!  _(cough-hack-cough-cough)_ YOU NEED ME!"

Irving went into another round of coughing fits.

"Wait," Luck said, holding up a hand. Everyone turned to look at him. Irving actually looked hopeful.

Luck took out his wand and asked, "What have you told the Twins?"

"Nothing of importance…" Irving replied slowly, eyeing the wand. He nervously tried not to look at Luck. "W-what's that s-tick for?"

Keith shook his head. It was a bad idea to try and lie to Luck. His brother could read people just like any of those dusty volumes he often had his nose in whenever he had the chance. Luck didn't even need magic to do it. But right now, it didn't seem like Luck wanted to waste time.

"Wrong answer." Luck said, narrowing his eyes. He bent down and grabbed Irving's collar, and pulled the man into a sitting position.  _"Mente, Entare!"_

He was angry, and Keith could see the magical energy radiating off of him. It seemed to be invisible to a normal person's eyes, but anyone with magic could probably see it.

Suddenly, Irving went wide-eyed and began screaming. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!"

Luck quickly stopped casting the spell and cursed under his breath. Irving rolled around on the floor slurring nonsense. For a moment, Luck seemed to be listening to something only he could hear, then nodded in understanding. "I see…" He took a calming breath. "Let's try this again."

Luck grabbed Irving by his chin to keep his head still and forced the man to face him.

" _Mente, Entare!"_

A dazed look came over Irving, and his head rocked slowly back and forth, but Luck's focus didn't break.

Because Luck had been angry and annoyed, he had probably been too forceful upon entering Irving's mind the first time, causing the non-magical man to become aware that something wasn't right. Now, after some direction from his wand's host, Luck had calmed himself down and repeated the spell. Because they couldn't risk trying such intrusive spells on each other, their enemies and sometimes even the people working for them (only those who knowingly broke the rules, like Irving) became the unfortunate guinea pigs for them to practice their spell casting on.

"What did you tell the Shapiro Twins?" Luck asked more firmly, and by doing so he brought the thought to the forefront of Irving's mind. Luck also had a curious glint in his eyes that Keith hadn't seen before. It was strangely focused, as if Luck was seeing through Irving and possibly beyond. It seemed that Luck was already getting somewhat of a handle on the mind-reading spell – which wasn't surprising to Keith. They took to some spells more easily than others, and mind-reading seemed like something that would be Luck's specialty.

"I-I told them…" Irving swallowed, looking up at Luck fearfully, his eyes clouded. "I told them everything I knew…"

Luck's mouth formed a thin line, and the curious glint in his eyes disappeared. It was a look no-one ever wanted to see on Luck's face, much less have it directed at them.

Well, shit.

On the bright side, Irving hadn't known about their use of magic. He hadn't climbed up that high in the rankings to warrant his being informed.

"Where are they?" Luck asked.

He was answered with a slurred moan.

"Where are Abe and Reles Shapiro?" Luck asked again, trying to force the thought to the forefront of Irving's mind so that he could find it. Since he hadn't reached the particular wavelength with his wand for that spell, he was going to have to be more specific in what he was looking for.

"Abe's at…" Irving's slurred muttering only allowed Luck to hear what he was saying due to their close proximity. "…He's in downtown Brooklyn…I dunno where Reles is…I only ever talked to Abe…"

There was some more discernable muttering from Irving that Keith didn't hear – not that it mattered. Luck would tell him and Berga of anything relevant.

 _/You're brother's pretty skilled with mind-reading…I'm getting jealous/_ Paonazzo commented.  _/Smart too. That's what? The_ ** _first_** _time using that spell? I wonder if that slithering Cat told him not to push too hard on the brat's mind/_ he chuckled.  _/Pity. A little further that first time and you would've had a vegetable with a heartbeat on your hands/_

Judging by the expression on Luck's face, he had found what he wanted and then some. Now, Luck looked like he was done. He pocketed his wand, and stood up. Irving was no longer needed.

Luck's voice held no emotion as he spoke, voicing exactly what Keith was thinking. "You actually think you're invaluable? What could have possibly made you think that dealing with the Twins and betraying us was somehow a good idea? We don't take kindly to traitors."

Irving let out a strange moan, and his head lulled to the side while bloody drool leaked from his mouth. "Wha-what did you drug me with…?"

Luck sighed as he simply glanced at Tick, who smiled as he pulled out his favorite pair of scissors as well. He eyed his wand and the scissors, as if trying to decide which he would use. Tick then slowly moved towards Irving, with an unnervingly calm smile on his face. Tick quietly muttered a spell, and the scissors in his hand were enlarged enough to rival a butcher's knife.

"We're going to have a little fun, Mr. Gambino." Tick smiled as he gave the enlarged scissors a few quick snips.

Irving suddenly squirmed on the ground, becoming very aware of his dire situation. Screaming, coughing and gagging, all while pleading that they keep the "freak" away from him. It was a pathetic sight, really. Keith scoffed.

 _/So, Keith/_ Paonazzo's voice sounded in the back of his head.  _/What're you planning to do?/_

Keith thought for a moment, ignoring the screams. Wards. They would need quite a few wards. Plus, they would have to warn the Martillo Family as well.

_/Heh. Your ward casting is pathetic. You should've been practicing that a bit more/_

Mentally, Keith rolled his eyes. He sighed, knowing that Paonazzo was right. Although wards had been on his list of spells for further practice, he had focused on the more immediate defensive and offensive spells, and had even focused on the summoning charms until he had gotten them right. He honestly had only cast a few wards since he had gotten his magic, and it had been small ones at that.

 _/It goes without saying that any wards you may cast will be weak/_  Paonazzo scratched at his ear as he stated the obvious. _/We haven't exactly cast any wards except for small ones with limited capabilities and range/_  Paonazzo paused.  _/You really need to step up your game in casting wards, Keith. Our synchronization in that area is severely lacking/_

In a sense, Keith already knew how to cast wards. He held the same knowledge of magic that Paonazzo did, but it was the execution of spells that was the difficult part. When he was first partnered with Paonazzo, his head was instantly filled with magical knowledge; but to carry out the required spells and to do them properly often had to be learned in some way. This meant that Paonazzo was both a partner and an instructor. According to that Raven, it was a way for all of them to learn how to communicate and bond with their respective wands.

Keith found that there was more to it than simply having the theory down and his partner's instructions. It was up to him to cast the desired spell until he found the proper wavelength that suited him and Paonazzo both for any particular spell. Basically, it was casting the spell over and over until the desired results were obtained. With every casting of a spell, the stronger and more improved it became – until it reached a point where his partner knew exactly what Keith wanted without him having to specifically describe it. Depending on the spell and what they required of it, a simple noun followed by a verb was the desired end result in reaching wavelengths.

Keith could only compare it to trying to find the right station on the radio – tuning it until the music came through loud and clear without any interference whatsoever. But honestly, how the wavelength worked seemed to be different for each of them in various ways. Keith could only go on what he knew from personal experience. The fact that he was a near-master at silent casting was a skill to be commended, and made Paonazzo's quills quiver with pride and wings flap for joy – that of all the people who had received magic,  _his_  partner could cast silent spells. It was a skill that even Minerva told him many witches and wizards strived for.

Keith searched his knowledge for the kind of wards they were going to need – and they were going to be quite difficult to conjure for someone who had only cast minor wards. The only ones he had ever really done had been around his house and office – silencing the goings on inside a building to those outside, making small barriers around valuables and certain areas of business…Something of the grand scale of the wards he had in mind were going to be far more difficult, because of what they were going to require of them.

Keith's mind then shifted over to what else they had to do. He would have to talk to Don Molsa about the situation, and make sure the Martillo Family were prepared. Don Molsa was a man who would get harsh when the situation required him to be, but he wasn't a violent man. They would also have to warn their non-magic-using friends about the Twins and the people who would very likely come looking because they didn't get their shipments on time, and those who were angry about broken promises that the Gandor Family never made.

Then a thought occurred to Keith: Minerva McGonagall. She hadn't come to see them just yet; and it was very likely she would show up within the next few days. When Maiza had come walking into  _Destino_ that one rainy day with a woman who was of all things, a natural-born magic user, a part of Keith had been curious and impressed.

Minerva McGonagall was an interesting woman that was for certain. Although there had been the initial suspicion on Keith's part – it was completely understandable, but Keith had slowly come to respect the woman in the few times he had met her, along with the treasure trove of information that she possessed. Plus, there had been the fact that upon initially meeting them, she had been tense – but her apprehensiveness slowly melted away, revealing a woman who was authoritative and took no nonsense from anyone – combined with a fierce sort of practicality and kindness that set her apart from most of the women he had known in his life.

Keith had also been impressed to learn that an entire society of magic users had been right under their noses, and they had their own schools, laws, and even a government with people who acted as a sort of police. From what Keith understood, these magic users only involved themselves in events that involved magic, and kept a sort of separation between them and the non-magical people they called 'Mundane'.

At one point during one of their conversations, they learned that there had been quite a bit of segregation between the magical and Mundane worlds – to a point that many magic users were oblivious and naïve to what was going on in the world that surrounded them. It was apparently even worse in Britain according to Minerva – very likely because British wizards were deeply rooted in tradition and weren't as spread out or culturally diverse as Americans were. Keith personally thought that it was very foolish to be so willfully ignorant – but the man kept silent about that. He believed in speaking only when something of importance needed to be said.

Honestly, Keith enjoyed demonstrating and comparing skills with the witch. His magical skill had increased greatly since meeting her. Minerva certainly would make an excellent teacher if she ever chose to do so. He really did think that she was an interesting woman, and that was something Paonazzo agreed with him on.

But now, he was fully aware that using magic brought wizarding police into the mix. In fact, that was why she had been in Little Italy that day. While Minerva wasn't exactly someone he would consider a close friend (more like an ally of sorts) he actually liked her and he didn't want her waltzing into a situation that could very well lead to her death.

If she or her magical friends got mixed up in a turf-war between his brothers and the Shapiro Twins, magic might not be enough to protect those who unwittingly got involved. It was pretty obvious that a natural-born magic user wouldn't be getting up from the wounds that the Twins were willing to inflict. Keith did not want anything happening to Minerva.

 _/Wait. You aren't going to use magic?/_ Paonazzo sounded, Keith sensed his disappointment.  _/I must admit I'm disappointed; I wanted to rip their flesh from their bones/_

No need to draw unwanted attention. Keith often reminded himself and others of this fact. Yes, magic was very convenient; he was willing to admit that. But in his opinion, it was best used as a last result or to prevent any unnecessary conflicts.

Luck shook his head as he approached Keith with Berga not far behind.

"What do you plan to do, Keith?" Berga asked.

They would have to deal with the Twins and the repercussions that come from it. Keith sighed, and stared down at his cigarette. They couldn't use magic here. Not yet, anyways.

"No magic?" Berga looked surprised. "It's because of that Minerva girl, isn't it?"

Berga sighed when Keith sent him a glance. "I get it, Keith. Whatever you say goes."

Luck shook his head, but it was clear that it wasn't in disagreement with Keith. Looking very serious, he said, "Irving told the Twins everything he knows about us, the business...he even shared some his personal life stories. Keith…a few of their men have even been in  _Destino_  and  _Alveare._ "

This was certainly a headache that was slowly growing the more Keith learned.

But then Luck smiled – the one he used when things turned in his favor. "On the bright side, at least I know where Abe is."

Mindreading spells were definitely dangerous in the hands of someone like Luck, Keith was certain of that. It made him thankful that Luck was on his side… That pun had often been used as they were growing up.

"Really? Where's the midget bastard?" Berga asked, turning to Luck. It was clear the middle brother wanted to go and beat the Shapiro Twin to a pulp. But he wouldn't be the one to do it. Berga mildly deflated at that, but didn't argue with Keith.

Keith agreed that they would have to take action, and quickly. His brothers followed him upstairs to the office, and while the younger two sat down on one of the couches, Keith walked over to the phone, and deposited his cigarette into an ashtray on his desk.

He picked it up off the cradle and dialed a number, waiting and listening to the other end ring. By the fifth ring, the person on the other end answered with a cheery,  _"Hello! I certainly wasn't expecting a call from you guys, not that I'm disappointed."_

"Hello, Claire," Keith said, and he pulled the receiver away from his ear in response to Claire's whooping yell. Berga and Luck shared a glance as they could easily hear their adopted brother even from where they were sitting a few feet away.

" _OH MY…THIS IS AMAZING! CHANE DEAREST, YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO'S ON THE PHONE! IT'S KEITH! She says 'hi' by the way. But wow, to hear your voice honestly brings me such joy and warms my heart."_

Keith couldn't help but sigh heavily in response to Clair's outburst. "Yes, we're all very excited that I called you."

" _So, why're you calling?"_  Claire asked, ignoring Keith's dry retort, and Keith could hear the smile in his voice. Claire loved his work a little too much sometimes.

"We need you to take a job," Keith said. "But you can't use any magic. We'll inform you of everything once you get here."

" _Sounds fun. But know that my friend is ever so disappointed. Be there in two hours."_

Claire then hung up, and Keith put the receiver back into its cradle. Things would be picking up very soon; there certainly was no question about it. He slowly sat down at his desk and glanced down at his discarded cigarette in the ashtray.

Keith lit a new cigarette while his brothers looked to him for guidance. They had just as much authority as he did, but in this situation, they were going to handle it very carefully and not act without informing each other of their intentions. Keith quickly phoned Maiza and told him everything that was happening, and what they were doing about it. The Gandor Brothers' problem was their problem too, after all.

" _That is rather troublesome…"_ Maiza sighed.  _"We'll start casting wards, and I'll remind everyone to use guns or knives if they have to defend themselves. We'll also keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. Firo and I will be there this evening to help you out. See you soon, Keith."_

"Later, Maiza." Keith replied.

Yes…things would be picking up very soon. It was a prospect that had Paonazzo very excited. Although the winged Porcupine was disappointed at the fact that no magic would be involved, he was interested in seeing how the foolish, magicless Humans would handle themselves against Keith, his brothers, and their followers. It really was like a fun, little game of who could survive the longest against those who were immortal magic users.

_*o*o*o*_

A day and a half after the little talk Keith and his brothers had had with Irving, one Malcom Goldstein Jr. came banging on their door. Keith eyed the man through a small window where they could see who was at their door. Malcom was tall, yet stocky with slicked back dark hair and tattoo sleeves that covered both of his large arms. He was also sweating profusely. The man was high on something, which was fueling his anger and seriously impeded his comprehension skills.

"I wonder what drugs he has coursing through his system this early in the morning," Luck said dryly as he checked his watch.  _"8:30_  and he's already high as a kite. I can smell it on him even through that door."

It hadn't even been two minutes since he arrived and Malcom had started banging on the door screaming obscenities about their fathers, mothers and sisters. With the wards they had set up, even people walking by would ignore the screaming man unless they came within a certain distance of the doorway.

Keith motioned with a slight nod of his head. Let him in.

Tick Jefferson obeyed, a smile creeping onto his face as he opened the door and with some flourish motioned with his hand, "Do come in, Mr. Goldstein. We've been expecting you."

"Damn right," Malcom muttered irritably as he brushed passed Tick, unnecessarily bumping into the man as he walked in. Tick silently shut the door and locked it. Not one person noticed that Malcom Goldstein Jr. walked into the Gandors' office, and didn't come back out.

_oOo***oOo_

Two days later, Abe Shapiro who was sitting in his office enjoying a cigar and scotch received a phone call from an irate Malcom Goldstein Sr.

" _WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL?!"_ the voice on the other end of the receiver screamed while Abe had to hold the phone at arm's length away from his ear. He cringed at the loudness of the man's voice. Like father, like son. The men in the Goldstein family were exceptionally loud and temperamental.

"Hello, Mr. Goldstein…" Abe said calmly, racking his brain as to why the man would be so angry. "How may I help you…?"

" _You can cut the formality shit right now."_

"Pardon?" Abe said slowly. He was still trying to think why Goldstein Sr. was so angry, while at the same time trying to formulate a plan that would somehow quell the man's anger.

" _What did you do to my son?"_

"What…?" Abe paused. "W-what do you mean?"

He knew that Goldstein Jr. would very likely show up when their shipment of drugs hadn't arrived. Honestly, he and Reles had the idea of shipping out the drugs late and then pointing an accusing finger at the Gandor Family making it look like the Gandors were at fault. Then in would step he and his brother, quelling people's anger and making the Gandor Brothers  _need_  to have them around. While Abe was sure they had a few politicians in their back pocket, they were people who dealt primarily with the shipment of alcohol and even various rare and expensive foods. Certainly they wouldn't want to deal with people as volatile as members of the Goldstein family. Those people weren't even the worst of the bunch.

" _I just received his head in a box, curtesy of you and your brother,"_ Goldstein Sr.'s voice broke through Abe's thoughts.  _"Apparently you had a little disagreement with my son according to the letter that you so kindly decided to include."_

"W-what…" Abe felt his mouth go dry. The Gandors… He had been so sure that they wouldn't risk incurring the wrath of someone like Goldstein Sr. He knew that they had a lot of influence in their respective territories, yet… How could he and Reles have miscalculated so drastically? Why the hell would a Family involved in the shipment of food and drink be so willing to take on people like the Goldstein Family and the Shapiro Twins, along with other powerful and influential families? Shit.

Just then, there was a knock on his door, and his assistant who had a repulsed look on her face walked in with a package that had a few stains on it.  _Warning: Perishable Contents. Refrigerate Immediately Upon Arrival_ was stamped on the side. The woman slowly set the package down and opened the lid, stepping back after she did so. Abe didn't like the way she was looking at him – as if she knew he would be very unhappy about whatever was in there. She hastily made her leave and shut the door behind her.

"Oh…shit…" Abe breathed as he peered into the box.

" _What is going on over there?!"_ the gravelly voice of Goldstein Sr. demanded.

"…I just received Irving Gambino's head…he was our contact with the Gandors…" Abe slowly reached in to pull out a crumpled letter, which simply read,

' _You should have stayed away,'_

Abe just stared dumbfounded for a few moments. The Gandors weren't the pushovers he had initially taken them for, and clearly weren't willing to back down when threatened. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Abe tried to keep his breathing steady. Who the hell had he and Reles crossed? He had heard rumors about them being ruthless, but he had simply and quite foolishly assumed that what he had heard about them were just that: rumors. He thought that they, along with the Martillo Family were nothing more than people who smuggled food.

He had believed Irving when he told them that the Gandors were nothing more than small-time smugglers. Because of Irving Gambino's obvious demise, he had either been kept out of the loop on the true goings on of the Gandor Family, or he was just a damned idiot who bit off more than he could chew and thought he could get away with it. With the info that Gambino had given Abe and his brother, they had spied on both the Martillos and the Gandors, and his information had seemed so valid. How could he and Reles have gotten it so wrong?

"I'll deal with the Gandors, Mr. Goldstein…I believe they were the ones who killed your son. I promise you, neither me or Reles had any reason to kill Malcom Jr." Abe seethed in anger, desperately trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Apparently they will have to learn their lesson the hard way. I promise you that we will take care of this…"

" _If what you say is true, send me their heads as well, as retribution for what they did to Malcom Jr. Otherwise, they're not the only ones whose heads I'll want delivered in a box. We will discuss the rest of our business later."_  Goldstein Sr. said before hanging up the phone. Perhaps slamming it down would better describe how their conversation ended.

Abe calmly placed the phone onto its cradle and stared at it for all of two seconds before he started screaming and yelling, cursing the Gandors for putting him into this position. Abe shoved everything off of his desk in one fell swoop, and even easily overturned the large oak desk with a surprising feat of strength for someone of his 4'7" stature.

The Gandors refused to work with them or be strong-armed into doing what he and Reles wanted, and now he and his brother would be losing so much more than money. They would be losing valuable contacts, along with the Gandor Family's influence in Manhattan, and the Martillo's wouldn't be far behind. There was now also a target on their backs if the Gandors weren't taken care of.

Damn those Gandor Brothers!

And damn Goldstein Jr for stupidly waltzing into a territory he had no business being in in the first place!

It was high time he and Reles retaliated before the Gandors had a chance to continue coming after them.

Just then, he heard his secretary yelling at someone. "Sir, sir! I'm sorry, but you can't go in there without an appointment!"

There was an odd, muffled sound. The man was speaking to someone, and then Abe heard footsteps getting closer and closer to his office. Abe was positive whoever that was couldn't be good news. Now, Abe was cursing his luck and his temper. His revolver was in one of the drawers of his overturned desk and he raced to try and open the drawer. Dammit! The drawer simply refused to open! Abe quickly bent on one knee to make the task of getting the desk drawer open much easier. Perhaps it was because he was panicking, but it was as if nothing was willing to cooperate as he wrestled the drawer open and its contents fell out onto the floor.

Abe heard the  _*thud*_ of the pistol, and he quickly shifted through the stack of papers to find it. He had just pulled back the hammer and was ready to face the door when whoever it was that his secretary had tried to stop slowly opened the door. The man leisurely and confidently walked in and turned to grin at Abe. Abe peered back at him over his shoulder from his place on the floor, trying to make it look like he wasn't holding a weapon. The man was young with a splash of vibrant red hair.

"Hello, Abe Shapiro," the man said. "The name's Vino. I'm here courtesy of the Gandor Brothers."

Abe's eyes widened as he began to internally panic. Vino…it couldn't be…He could tell by the look in Vino's eyes that he fully intended to kill him. Not one willing to go down without a fight, Abe spun around to face Vino and fired his gun multiple times, and he was quite pleased with himself when Vino didn't even have time to move. At that moment, Vino's body was sprawled on the floor, his blood and brains were splattered across the walls, and his white dress shirt was slowly becoming a dark crimson, staining the carpet as well.

Abe smirked. He laughed. Some legendary assassin the great Vino was – he had just killed him! What sort of food-smuggling fools thought they could scare him? Now, he would just have to take care of anyone else who might be out there. He checked how many rounds he had – two should be enough.

Abe had barely even made it passed his office doorway when he felt a firm hand clench his shoulder from behind. What…that couldn't be…he was dead. Abe had shot him! He was supposed to be  _dead!_  Abe knew for a fact that he had shot this bastard in the face! His blood and brains had been blown all over his wall and carpet!

Abe slowly turned to face a very-much alive Vino. Abe let out a strained gasp. Vino didn't even have a wound on him, although his clothing now sported a few holes where Abe had shot him. Abe was currently questioning his sanity. _How?_

"Shooting me wasn't very nice, Mr. Shapiro." Vino said with a chillingly friendly grin on his face. "You simply can't kill the one who created the world you live in and not expect to face the consequences."

At that moment, Abe Shapiro who was one of the most feared crime lords in New York City – promptly wet his pants.

"How about you and I have a little heart-to-heart chat?" Vino's expression turned menacing.

Abe didn't even have time to scream as he was yanked into the office and the door was slammed shut.

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1995_

_The dinner was finished off with a dessert of rhubarb crumble and custard, and not once did anyone bring up Voldemort or ask Harry about Cedric. It was truly a relief. Harry wished the moment would have lasted longer than it did._

After dinner, Harry definitely felt oh-so-pleasantly full and ready to loosen his belt buckle. That was certainly saying something seeing how he was wearing hand-me-downs from Dudley. Everyone looked as if they were ready to call it a night as well. Even Crookshanks, Hermione's cat was half-heartedly chasing the butterbeer corks that Ginny was rolling for him.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Molly said with an infectious yawn.

A few more people at the table had to yawn as well.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius took his plate and added it to the neatly stacked pile that the Americans had made after they had finished their dinners as well. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen-"

Sirius was cut off by George. "Hang on!"

The Americans all had various expressions of surprise and curiosity on their faces at George's sudden outburst.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?!" Fred joined in, equally angry.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a stinking thing!" George continued.

Harry said nothing at the moment as he continued to watch the events unfold before him; his eyes glancing between the adults in the room. He silently hoped to at least get the answers he craved, but he didn't want to say anything at risk of not being told anything at all.

"' _You're too young, you're not in the Order,'"_  Fred said in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily just like Molly. Harry personally thought that it was very impressive. Fred continued, "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault that you haven't been told what the Order's been doing." Sirius was calm. "That's your parents' decision. Now, Harry on the other hand – "

"Harry's only fifteen!" Molly broke in, her voice sharp.

"Dammit, Molly, he's not a child!" Sirius was still calm, but his voice had raised a few octaves. "He has dealt with just as much as the Order."

"But he's not an adult either!" Molly's cheeks nearly matched the red of her hair. "He's not  _James_ , Sirius!"

"And he's not your son." Sirius' voice was eerily low now, his gaze at Molly unwavering.

"He's as good as," Molly defended, looking close to tears. A part of Harry honestly felt bad for causing so much distress to Molly.

Harry's eyes went wide with surprise when a calm voice spoke up from further down the table on his right side.

It was Maiza who asked, "Why not simply tell him what he needs to know?"

Harry felt a wave of appreciation for Maiza wash over him.

"It's for his safety," Molly said, looking almost insulted that someone else, an adult no less, thought that Harry should have the information that he so desperately wanted. "He's just a child," Molly stated firmly. "He shouldn't have to worry about such things!"

"I think he started worrying about it from the time old Voldy-guy tried to kill him last year." Firo now added, his expression was very stern. "So I think that the kid's entitled to a bit of information."

Harry was really starting to like his new DADA professor. Firo was gradually getting higher on the list of Harry's favorite teachers.

"He's the primary target of that old snake bastard, so you can't really be coddling the kid." Berga stated gruffly. The man looked mildly annoyed, but Harry wasn't sure if it was directed at the fact Molly didn't want Harry to know what had been going on for the past month, or at Molly herself.

"I'm not – I'm _not_ coddling him," Molly argued as she looked at the men with pleading yet firm eyes. Her cheeks looked even redder than before. "He needs someone to care for him at times like this, because Merlin knows that no one else will!"

"But Harry _should_ at least know what he's going up against here." Maiza insisted, his voice still calm.

" _Thank you,_  Maiza." Sirius said pointedly, with a wave of his hand. "See,  _they_  get it. People shouldn't have to travel halfway 'round the world just to point out the obvious."

"Another thing," Luck's voice added, he closed his eyes before continuing. "If you're going to include him, you'll have to include the other children as well." He opened his eyes and looked at the twins. "How old are you boys?"

"Eighteen," Fred and George both answered with equal amounts of pride.

"That makes them of age, does it not?" Luck asked, with an eerie calm. "Then they have the right to be included as well."

The twins smiled victoriously, while everyone else under the age of eighteen showed their obvious disappointment as best they could.

"But they are still in school –" Molly argued, but she paused at the look Luck was giving her.

"But they are of age none-the-less. You can't have double standards here." Luck's calm tone cast a heavy silence over the entire room.

Fred and George simply stared at Luck in shock, who had managed to silence Molly Weasley of all people, with a single look. Harry didn't think it was possible. Even a few of the adults who knew Molly and what she capable of glanced back and forth between the two.

"I can tell that you care for Harry's wellbeing, Mrs. Weasley," Luck began. "He's how old now – fifteen?" Harry silently nodded when Luck looked at him for confirmation. "Like it or not, the boy has been forced to grow up from the time he first encountered Voldemort as a small child."

People shuddered and gasped. Harry could only stare and Ron's jaw dropped while Hermione's eyes went wide. Luck had just said Voldemort's name without fear or hesitation! The rumors about Americans being ballsy were decidedly very true.

"But-" Molly began to argue, but Luck raised a hand, and she stopped. Molly gave Luck a look that was something akin to a glare.

Ron was now glancing between his mum and Luck, as if trying to process the reality of the situation. Molly was a passionate and loving woman – much like a mother bear jumping to the defense of her cub. But Luck seemed like one of those people who was as equally unmoving and he had practicality added to the mix – he simply faced the facts as they were, and sugar-coated nothing. Molly Weasley had met her match – although, Harry was positive that if it had been any other situation Molly would have managed to force Luck to see her side.

"Harry needs to know what is going on – or at least tell him what you think he needs to know. He's at the center of this whole situation. The unfortunate reality of it is that he very well might die."

Harry inwardly flinched at that comment. He had come pretty close to death a number of times, and few people were willing to come out directly and say it. Mad-Eye didn't exactly count, because he believed Death was waiting to spring from around every corner. Professor Trelawney couldn't count either, as she had been predicting students' deaths for years (and all of them were still very much alive). Harry wasn't sure if he could add Cedric to her list of people the strange Professor had predicted would die, because it didn't exactly seem like it would count.

"I have to agree with Luck," Remus' voice was low. "Personally, I think it better that Harry gets the facts – not all the facts, mind you – but the general picture from us…rather than a garbled version from…others."

"Well then…" Molly's voice cracked just ever-so-slightly. "I can see that I'm going to be overruled. Ron – Hermione – Ginny – out of the kitchen, now!"

There was another instant uproar, which caused each of the Americans to actually wince and Czes to cover his ears.

"Why do they get to stay and we can't?" demanded Ron, indicating Harry and Czes.

"This isn't actually very fair, you know!" Hermione added.

"But Mum, I want to!" Ginny piped up. She pointed an accusing finger at Czes. "You didn't tell Czes to leave!"

"You're seriously using a weak argument like that?" Czes questioned Ginny irritably. "I'm not going to be a part of this meeting or whatever anyway."

"How come Harry gets his questions answered and not us?" Ron persisted, now that it was clear Czes wouldn't be staying.

"You're-you're suppressing our right to have answers!" Hermione said, her voice shaking from frustration.

Molly was about to argue with the children, but a shrill whistle cut her off and everyone now turned to Keith, who had two fingers in his mouth. He silently lowered his hand to the table, his gaze was unwavering. Alright, Harry was sure of it now – that man had a glaring scowl that made Snape's look like he was giving puppy-dog eyes.

Berga on the other hand, let his annoyance be known. "Would all of you calm down? Quit it with your incessant whining and yelling!"

"But – " Ron started, but Keith merely glanced at him and Ron immediately fell silent, but he quietly muttered a "yes, sir."

Keith cleared his throat politely, and sent a glance towards Harry and the others. Harry and his friends glanced curiously at each other, not really knowing what Keith was trying to do.

"It's of Keith's personal opinion, Mrs. Weasley," Luck began with that eerie smile, "that your son and Ms. Granger be allowed to stay, as they are in the same year as Mr. Potter. He would very likely simply repeat everything we've told him – unless you want us to put a spell on him to prevent him from doing so."

Harry was about to protest having any spells put on him, but a part of him feared interrupting Keith - or was it Luck? He didn't want that gaze on him. The fact that the man had been silent since meeting all of them and was "speaking" now; made Harry hesitate all the more about voicing any protests – so Harry wisely decided to remain silent and just listen.

"We would rather not, of course. Keith very much advises against it," Luck continued. "He doesn't believe in being too rash."

"What about me?" Ginny sounded hopeful.

"You will leave." Keith's voice was quiet, but it carried a heavy air of authority.

The simple response was obviously not the one Ginny was hoping to hear. She opened her mouth to protest, but Keith silenced her with a single glance. Ginny openly shivered, and quickly turned to leave with Czes right behind her. But Ginny was not one to go quietly and she let her disappointment be known as she left the room loudly complaining and stomping with an annoyed Czes glaring at the back of her head. Molly went out after her daughter to give her a firm talking to only added to the increase of volume.

Another voice of a shrill quality joined into the mix of Molly and Ginny, and the newest voice was growing louder by the second.

" _FILTH! MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD-TRAITORS! YOU DARE TO DEFILE THE HOUSE OF BLACK WITH YOUR VILE PRESENCE!"_

Each of the Americans openly cringed at the unpleasant caterwauling and covered their ears while Remus ran out to deal with the screeching portrait that was Walburga Black. Various other voices could be heard starting to yell as well, causing Harry to sigh deeply as he felt the need to join the Americans in covering his ears.

A few minutes later, a welcome silence finally came, and Remus entered the kitchen shaking his head. The portrait was truly a bothersome thing.

"I think my ears are ringing after that," Ennis commented in a complaining tone.

"What the hell  _was_  that?" questioned Firo.

"A portrait of my mother," Sirius replied bitterly.

"She screeches like a banshee and you keep her around?" Ronnie asked.

"Don't have much of a choice," Sirius continued in his bitter tone. "Permanent Sticking Charm."

Maiza looked as if he was going add a comment of his own, but he paused when Molly re-entered the room and took a seat. Molly had a stern expression on her face, but it softened when she caught Harry looking at her. Harry returned a small smile of his own, showing that he at least understood her not wanting him to get involved in the goings on of the Order; even as frustrating as it was.

"Alright, Harry…" Remus smiled softly. "What would you like to know?"

Harry took a deep breath. His questions came spilling out nearly all at once.  _"Where is Voldemort?_  What's he doing? How come nothing's happened?"

People shuddered at the name, but Harry couldn't help but notice the looks of annoyance and eye-rolling come from the Americans. He sent them a questioning look.

"Long story, kid," Berga said when he saw Harry looking at them.

"To answer your question Harry," Bill began, "Since you survived to bear witness of You-Know-Who's return, he's been laying low. Particularly since Dumbledore was the first person you informed of his comeback."

"However, that also has presented a bit of a problem…" Arthur said gravely as he looked at Harry.

An awkward silence ensued, and Harry glanced between everyone at the table. Even the Americans were as confused as he was.

"Show him," said Remus. "He'll find out soon enough."

Arthur presented a newspaper and laid it on the table in front of Harry. It was a copy of the  _Daily Prophet_  and Harry picked up the paper to read the headline in near disbelief. The Americans could easily see the article headline from where they sat, although they couldn't read what it was about at the moment.

In bold print underneath a picture of him, were the words,  ** _THE BOY WHO LIES._**

"Well, shit." Berga leaned back in his seat.

"That's not good…not good at all…" Ronnie narrowed his eyes.

Firo stood and skimmed the article over Harry's shoulder. He had a deep frown as he motioned to the newspaper in Harry's hands. "You don't think you could've mentioned that earlier?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is really starting to like Firo and the other Americans (although Ronnie is debatable). Hermione thinks Firo is handsome (as does Ginny) but is more mature here than she was with Lockhart. As for Ron, he isn't sure what to think just yet, but he does think Firo is a pretty cool guy. The twins obviously think Firo is awesome, and are looking forward to pranking him.
> 
> oOo***oOo
> 
> Heerree's Claire! There will be a few more flashbacks involving the Gandor and Martillo Families. The events of this chapter will be significant later, I promise!
> 
> Minerva's time with the NYB of Magic will return next chapter. Please look forward to it. Toodles!
> 
> ***oOo***oOo***
> 
> A bit of trivia time! The Shapiro Twins are actually based on real crime lords, hitmen, and mobsters.
> 
> Abe "Kid Twist" Reles was known for his short stature and temper. He and two other friends (one of whom was named Martin Goldstein) founded a hitman company calledMurder Inc.He liked killing people using ice picks by stabbing them into his victims' ears.
> 
> Martin Goldstein and Abe Reles loved working together, and continued committing crimes throughout the 40's in NY. The pair went on to work for the Shapiro Brothers, a violent crime family at the time headed by three brothers. After a falling out with the Shapiro Brothers, Abe and his crew went on to slaughter all three of them.
> 
> Malcom Goldstein and Jr were inspired by Martin Goldstein in name only.
> 
> The Shapiro Twins are loosely based on the Kray Twins, who were incredibly violent London Mobsters during the 1950's.
> 
> ***oOo***oOo***
> 
> Czes' wand: Ingannare – Can mean to deceive, fool, trick or dupe
> 
> Keith's wand – Paonazzo – Can mean Livid or Purple
> 
> Luck's Spell(s) – mente, entare – mind, enter
> 
> Destino – Can mean destiny, fate, luck, doom, lot or kismet


	7. It is a Difficult Thing When Hard Truths Must Be Faced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A Horcrux is very dark and unnatural form of magic and is incredibly vile – even I stay away from it. By performing a Human sacrifice, it basically splits the caster's soul, housing it in some sort of container – taking away their humanity in the process. Many people have tried and failed to do it, as it is a way to obtain a form of immortality. It can work, but it comes at a terrible cost. And don't be asking me how to make one. If you do, I'll assume the worst and kill you. So let's remain on each other's good sides, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for your support. You make me and my muse ever so happy! Kisses!

_*O*o*o*o*O*_

_1995_

_In bold print underneath a picture of him, were the words,_   ** _THE BOY WHO LIES._**

" _Well, shit." Berga leaned back in his seat._

" _That's not good…not good at all…" Ronnie narrowed his eyes._

_Firo stood and skimmed the article over Harry's shoulder. He had a deep frown as he motioned to the newspaper in Harry's hands. "You don't think you could've mentioned that earlier?"_

Harry wanted to bang his head against the table in frustration. Great. Just great. This was what he needed. He read the paper aloud for the sake of the others. Minister Fudge was trying to discredit him, and not only that, Dumbledore was apparently being labeled as crazy.

"They're making it sound like there're doctors just waiting in the wings to slap a straightjacket on the geezer!" Firo yelled, clearly frustrated by the contents of the article.

"Why is Fudge doing this?" Harry was tempted to ball the newspaper as tight as he could and throw it into the fire.

"The Minister thinks that Dumbledore is after his job." answered Remus.

"What?" Harry couldn't believe it. "But that's insane!"

"It really sounds as if this Minister Fudge should be the one in the straightjacket." Ennis said flatly.

Harry couldn't agree more. "You could say that again."

"Well, you know how it works," Ronnie snorted derisively, and the sarcasm practically dripped from his voice. "Either pretend your problems don't exist, or run a smear campaign against them. Both are  _very_ effective methods."

"That being said," Remus continued, "Fudge isn't in his right mind. He's been warped and twisted by fear."

"Fear is certainly a powerful tool to use against someone," Maiza sighed. "And fear can make people do things they never thought they would."

Remus could only nod in agreement. "It's true. The last time Voldemort gained power, he almost destroyed everything we hold most dear. Things have been relatively peaceful for fourteen years, and the Ministry hasn't had to deal with anything on this grand a scale." With a heavy sigh, Remus added, "I'm afraid that now  _he_  has returned, Fudge will do anything to avoid facing the truth."

"So he's happy to sit on his ass while the world around him goes to shit. Fantastic." Berga threw his hands into the air. "Give me five minutes with the son of a bitch. I'll more than happily knock some sense into him."

Harry glanced at Berga and imagined the man going after Fudge, and found himself very much liking the idea.

"You'd be wasting your time." Remus said. "Not even Dumbledore has been able to convince him.

Berga scoffed. "I highly doubt that the old man is willing to bust a few kneecaps to get his point across."

A series of shocked and horrified gasps sounded around the table and others simply gaped (although Sirius guffawed) but none of the Americans seemed surprised. This must be how Berga acted most of the time. From the way he said it, Harry was positive that Berga would more than happily carry out his idea of breaking Fudge's kneecaps.

"I don't think torturing the man is going to help our case, Berga." Luck sighed matter-of-factly. From the way Luck was acting, Harry wondered if Luck was constantly reining in his brother. Berga 'humphed' in response to Luck.

Keith cleared his throat and glanced at his brothers. There was a moment or two of silence, before Luck nodded. "That's a good point, a worrying one too…"

Turning to the others before even having to ask, Luck looked very serious. "Harry, we highly suggest that you be  _extremely_  careful in how you deal with  _anyone_  from the Ministry that you don't trust. The papers are not only labeling you as a liar, but the trial is also an opportunity to brand you as a criminal, even if you were in every right."

"Oh." Harry replied, downcast. He looked at the paper again. "So what's the Order been doing about Voldemort then?"

"Doing our best to make sure he can't carry out his plans." Sirius tried to give him an encouraging smile.

"What  _are_ his plans?" Hermione asked.

"We think he's trying to build up his army again." Remus continued in his explanation. "Fourteen years ago, he had huge numbers under his command – and that didn't even include the witches and wizards. He had a number of dark creatures as well. He's been recruiting heavily, and we've been attempting to do the same." Remus nodded to the Americans. "Which is part of why our American friends are here, and why Firo will be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year."

"Yep!" Firo grinned with a pleased look. "I'm sure the Ministry's pretty pissed that some American whippersnapper got the job. So good news: you won't be the only pain in the Ministry's ass this year."

Firo sent Harry an encouraging two thumbs-up, and Harry actually managed a smile. Strange reactions aside, he had taken a liking to the Americans. Not only had they had encouraged his inclusion, but they were willing to fight in the war against Voldemort. For that, he was grateful.

"But, our problems don't end there, unfortunately." Remus said glumly. "With the whole population thinking that nothing is wrong, it's been hard to convince people that Voldemort's back and join us in our cause. Especially if they don't want to believe that Voldemort is back. Unfortunately for those who  _do_  believe he's back, they're afraid that the Ministry will have them sacked or even arrested."

"It really sounds as if we're at a disadvantage." Ennis bit her thumbnail. "People should not fear their government like that."

"Well, with your help we've actually climbed up a few pegs on the proverbial ladder." Remus replied with a grateful smile.

"In any case," Sirius added. "Gathering followers isn't the only thing Voldemort's interested in."

" _HEM-HEM"_  Arthur cleared his throat loudly.

There was a pause before Sirius continued again. "We believe…Voldemort may be after something."

"Sirius," Arthur tried to say, but he went unheeded.

"Something that he didn't have last time," Sirius looked slightly eager to get to the big reveal.

"You mean like a weapon?" Harry asked.

"That's enough!" Molly's voice sounded throughout. She was standing now, arms crossed and looking furious. "You say much more and you might as well induct him into the Order straight away."

"Good!" Harry slammed his hands onto the table. "If Voldemort's raising an army, then I want to fight –"

"Harry, you-" Remus started, but he was cut off.

"No." A voice responded firmly – clearly the speaker was leaving no room for argument.

The authoritative voice was American. Both Molly and Remus turned to Maiza in surprise.

"Maiza?" Remus questioned, realizing that Maiza clearly had something to add. "What is it?"

Harry didn't like the way Maiza was looking at him now, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The man was sitting a few chairs down from him, yet it felt as if Maiza could easily see Harry, no matter how hard he tried to make himself seem smaller. Maiza could actually be surprisingly unnerving – Harry honestly hadn't thought the man had it in him.

"Harry, tell me: what do you expect to do in this fight against Voldemort?" Maiza asked simply.

"Win, of course." Harry answered as if it couldn't be any more obvious. "And when I do-"

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Maiza cut him off. "It's very different than seeing someone die." Before Harry could say anything, Maiza continued with, "And I don't mean on  _accident._ You are  _intentionally_  going after a person with  _their_  death being the end goal."

"No…but…" Harry began, but Maiza cut him off again, but his voice was slowly becoming harsher. At the same time, it was not yelling or unkind in anyway. Until now, Harry couldn't think of anyone who had spoken to him like this.

" _Could_  you take someone's life? What if you looked into that person's eyes? That person probably has a family. You'd be killing someone's parent, sibling, child…do you think you're capable of that? Taking a life changes a person, you know."

"Well, if they were trying to kill me-"

"What if they started to beg and plead with you?" Maiza wasn't backing down. "Sure, they may have been just trying to kill you, and you disarmed them. Good job. Now, you are either left with the decision to keep them alive, or kill them. What are you going to do?"

"I-I don't…" Harry stammered as the questions flew at him. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know. Those were things he hadn't exactly considered before. He had always talked big, but now…

"Harry," Maiza's voice held no emotion. "Say that I was just trying to kill you. Chaos is going on all around you. People are dying, and you are desperately needed elsewhere. It's a race against time. You have disarmed me, and right now I'm tearfully pleading with you to spare my life. I give you an entire laundry list of reasons as to why you should spare me; from 'I have a family' to 'I didn't have a choice' to 'I could help you if you let me live'. What are you going to do? You can't take prisoners. You have five seconds to decide."

Harry balked. "What-"

Harry blinked, and suddenly a large dagger was stabbed into the space on the table in between his fingers just centimeters from the skin. Harry just stared up at Maiza who was leaning across the opposite side of the table in between a shocked Sirius and a gaping Ron. Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye and Tonks were all standing, wands at the ready, and all three looking unsure as they watched Maiza's every move.

Everyone, save for the Americans, stared at Maiza in astonishment. They had never witnessed someone move like that before. Bill and Charlie finally seemed to register what Maiza was doing and they now stood with their wands out as well.

Maiza's eyes housed a cold fury that made Harry too terrified to even move. For the briefest of moments, Harry thought that he felt a looming presence behind him; he could have sworn in that moment, that there was hot breath blowing on the back of his neck. And just like that, it was gone and Maiza simply retrieved his dagger before walking around the table and sitting back down.

What…what just happened? Harry released a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. A small part of him wished he hadn't eaten so much at dinner.

"I didn't even really use any magic…Well, I teleported to the opposite side of the table." Maiza said, his friendly demeanor was back, although he was being very serious. "I could have slit your throat and been done with it. You see, Harry, you aren't ready. You obviously aren't prepared."

"Why would I have been prepared against _that?!"_ demanded Harry. "I didn't think that-"

"Exactly." Maiza cut Harry off. The young wizard wished the man would stop doing that. "You have to be prepared to fight at all times, like them." he indicated the three who slowly sat down, now warily eyeing Maiza. "You have to constantly be observant," there was a huff of what was probably agreement from Mad-Eye, "you constantly have to be prepared to defend yourself from any possible threat. You can never let your guard down. How are you supposed to defend yourself against magic when you are too frightened to even move to defend yourself against a Mundane weapon? You couldn't even fight Voldemort last year. You were helpless, and the harsh truth is, someone died."

Harry wanted to argue further and insist that Maiza was wrong. But he couldn't. Maiza was right.

"I'm not saying you were at fault, Harry. But it was a situation that you barely walked away from – you aren't always going to have that kind of luck."

It was an unfortunate truth, and Harry knew it.

"I don't even like fighting honestly," Maiza sighed. "I find it abhorrent, but I'm ready and willing – and  _have_ taken someone's life to protect the ones I love."

Harry looked down at the table, taking in Maiza's words. Maiza hadn't struck Harry as someone who was capable of killing another person. But the look he had seen in Maiza's eyes told him otherwise. And what the bloody hell had been that feeling of something behind him? No-one had reacted to anything other than Maiza.

"If you want to join the Order, you'll have to work hard to hone your skills so that you don't hold your allies back. From my understanding, the Order is primarily comprised of older magic users – ones who have already left school." He must have added that for the sake of the twins. "You'll have to steel your resolve, and be willing to kill even when people beg you not to. Are you prepared to do that?"

Harry stared at the spot on the table where Maiza's knife had left its mark. The way Maiza had looked just then…it had terrified him. Harry didn't even think a person could move like Maiza did.

"What am I supposed to do then?" Harry asked quietly. He blinked, surprised that he was actually fighting back tears. "I  _want_  to help fight…I don't want anyone else to die like Cedric, my parents and so many others have."

"Keep your head down until the trial is over, and hopefully you'll be able to go to school and proceed as normal." Maiza answered, his voice was warm and kind again.

Seriously, putting school ahead of fighting Voldemort? Was the man distantly related to Hermione?

"And that's where I come in,"

Harry looked up at Firo who was smirking.

"Everything I learned about magic and combat was from these two guys here," Firo indicated Maiza and Ronnie. His grin housed a hint of sadism. "You can bet I'll be pounding everything I learned in a decade into you brats in less than a year."

"That actually sounds pretty scary…" Ron muttered.

"Look, I'm a realist," Firo said with a nod. "I don't expect to go into Hogwarts and leave with a bunch of child soldiers – I just intend to show you kids how to survive. When I'm through, you brats will be kicking ass and taking names."

Harry smiled at Molly's disapproving huff of Firo's cursing.

Silence fell over them for a moment before Molly finally spoke up, her voice sounding grim. "Alright then, all of you – bed."

The twins, Ron, Hermione and Harry all stood up from the table, getting ready to leave when Luck suddenly spoke up, "I almost forgot, Mrs. Weasley, do you happen to have any extra mirrors or plates lying around that you wouldn't mind us using?"

"Actually, you'll have to ask Sirius about that," Molly nodded to Sirius, "It's his house, after all."

"This place is  _yours?"_ asked Firo. "Well that explains things."

"Meaning…?" Sirius quirked a questioning eyebrow, with a curious grin on his face.

"The Weasley's are  _way_  too nice to own someplace this creepy…" Firo indicated pretty much the entire house. He looked back to Sirius. "Why  _is_ this place so creepy?"

"…My family had certain preferences…" Sirius said distastefully. "I'll get you some plates you can use. Be right back."

"Well, Sirius was gracious enough to open his home to us and the Order," Molly provided with a smile. "He really likes helping out when and where he can, considering his circumstances."

"What's going on? Are you going to be casting spells? Is American magic any different than the magic we use here?" Hermione asked inquisitively, the ever-curious and studious side of her showing.

The prospect of going to bed was momentarily forgotten as whatever the Americans were doing was far more interesting. For a moment, Harry was silently worried that the Americans would get annoyed at Hermione for being so curious and pummeling them with question after question. Some people tended to get exasperated with her, while only a select few didn't seem to mind telling Hermione everything they knew – they had a willing audience, so why not?

Here, Luck smiled in that friendly way, even looking a little excited himself at the prospect of whatever they were going to be doing.

"Communication mirrors," Luck explained. He seemed a little embarrassed as he said, "With everything going on, I sort of forgot about it…"

"Well, we already have mirrors we can talk to other people with," Ron said in a tone that indicated he didn't see why they needed such a thing. Hermione shot him a look, to which Ron quickly responded by putting his hands up in case he had to defend himself. "What? I'm just sayin'."

"Hm, well, the mirrors we use are different," Luck replied easily with a smile, clearly not taking offence at Ron's comment.

"How so?" Hermione asked eagerly, thankfully taking her ire off of Ron.

"We actually use them for travel as well," Luck provided.

" _Really?"_ Hermione went wide-eyed in fascination. "Can you show us? How does it work? Do you…"

She stopped when Maiza held up a hand, and she quickly flushed before apologizing, "Sorry…"

"No, no…I think you're definitely someone who's going to keep Firo on his toes this year." Maiza said with a knowing smile and a wink towards Firo – who rolled his eyes in response. His smile changed slightly as he glanced at Hermione. There seemed to be an odd, wistful tone in Maiza's voice as he asked,  "You really like learning, don't you?"

Hermione lit up. "Oh, yes! I'm looking forward to this year, what with Firo being at Hogwarts and all. I'm  _really_  looking forward to seeing how you practice magic! Things are so different in America than they are here. Could you tell me more about that? What was your schooling like when you grew up?"

"…All very fascinating questions." Maiza replied with that odd smile. He looked almost somber as he said it. "How about we start with the simpler questions."

He gave a quick flick of his wrist, and presented them with a wand that was unlike anything any of them had seen before. It was a soft brown color, with an almost-white silver handle, and the silver intertwined with the wood seamlessly. There were various runes that ran along the wood beside the silver, and it seemed not even Hermione could identify them.

"You can hold it," Maiza said, and Hermione was the first to take it. "We actually were trained in a unique form of Italian magic; it's quite rare." Maiza shrugged. "Americans from immigrant families tend to practice and expand on their ancestor's magic."

"Wow, that's amazing!" Ron was impressed. He glanced at an incredulous Harry and Weasley twins. "What, I can't be impressed at people practicing cultural magic?"

"…It feels almost alive…" Hermione glanced at her friends as she marveled at the wand. "I don't know how else to describe it."

She ran a finger along the runes of the wand in complete fascination, while Ron breathed out a "blimey" that Harry was sure almost sounded jealous of such an intricate wand. He couldn't blame the red-head; whoever had made the wand was truly an expert.

"What's this?" Hermione asked, her thumb gently traced over a delicate carving of a raven in the wand's handle. It had three eyes; with a prominent and hypnotic ruby-red eye in the center of its forehead. "Does it mean anything?"

"The Three-Eyed Raven," Maiza said. Before he could say anything else, Sirius returned with plates stacked precariously in his hands, followed by Czes who had his own stack, although not as high.

"Here we are," Sirius said as he set his pile of dull and dinged-up silver plates down on the table somewhat carelessly. He took the plates Czes was carrying and placed them on the table as well. "The plates you have requested."

When Luck picked up one of the plates, he made a face. "This is pure silver…are you sure…?"

Mundungus made an odd noise, causing the people in the room to look at him. "Ah…what year…what year was it made?" He then added quickly, "Just curious, really…"

"It's fifteenth-century, Goblin-wrought," Sirius replied as he picked up one of the plates and with a look of disgust said, "Each embossed with the Black Family crest…"

"That'd come off though…" Mundungus muttered, and each of the Americans gave him a suspicious glare that he quickly turned away from. He whistled tunelessly as he glanced about the room; and slowly one-by-one, the Americans turned back to the task at hand.

A part of Harry didn't appreciate Mundungus eyeing his godfather's things the way he was. Even though Sirius had no real attachment to his family heirlooms, it wasn't Mundungus' place to decide which ones Sirius could do without.

"Anyway, you can use whatever you want, I don't care." Sirius shrugged. "I'm more than glad to be rid of it, to be honest."

"If you say, so…thank you, Sirius." Luck smiled genuinely.

"You blokes are doing me a favor," Sirius smiled, happy to be of service in whatever way possible.

"It'll go faster if all of us do the mirrors," Maiza pointed out, and the others nodded. That was when Hermione handed Maiza back his wand, and she whispered a quick, "thanks!" and the Golden Trio stood back to watch and see what kind of magic their American visitors would do. Fred and George stood back and watched in anticipation – probably just as curious as they were about American magic; but were more likely scoping out their future professor's spells.

"Oh, I really want to see this!" Tonks said excitedly as she leaned on the table.

"I guess I'll make the mirrors," Luck drew his wand, which easily caught the eyes of the Golden Trio. It was a silvery-green color with a white-silver handle; the two intertwined elements seemed to be as one, just like Maiza's was. Ollivander would probably have a field day if he ever even so much as  _spotted_  one of those wands!

It turned out each of the Americans had those ornate wands, except for Ronnie – who simply shrugged and smirked when the eyes of the British wizards and witches looked at him curiously.

"I don't have a wand."

"Don't have a wand?" Ron questioned. "Are you a Squib?"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed as she scolded Ron, but she and everyone else (minus their American counterparts) shivered when Ronnie let out a laugh. It was  _so_ bloody unnatural somehow, and Harry didn't like it.

"No, no." Ronnie said the very moment he was done laughing. "I use a more ancient form of magic – Runes and the like. I guess you could say that I'm a traditionalist."

There wasn't really a chance to question him further on that fact. There was something else going on. Now that he had the requested plates, Luck made a face that showed he was concentrating.  _"Piatti: Diventano specchi!"_

There didn't seem to be any particular wand movement to Luck's spell, which was a curious and amazing thing. He simply gave a light flick of his wrist. Harry and the others watched in fascination as the plates transformed into ornate compact-sized mirrors. Except…the ornate frames of the mirrors were very snake-like. Okay…Harry wasn't sure what to think about that. He noticed out of the corner of his eye Mundungus eye the plates-now-creepy-snake-mirrors in something like disappointment.

Ron was the first to (rather loudly) point it out. "Blimey! Why'd you make them look like snakes?"

"…Are they supposed to look any other way?" there was a hint of mock-hurt in Luck's voice. He then lovingly spoke to his wand, "Shush, pretty girl, they just don't appreciate your beauty like I do…" Luck turned back to them, saying, "It's not her fault that some Dark Wizard has corrupted the image of snakes."

"…I think you love that wand a little too much, mate." Ron said dryly. "Ow!"

Hermione hit Ron on the arm. "Let's see  _you_  do transfiguration skills like that and  _then_  you can criticize."

"Well…they  _do_ look like something my family would have collected," Sirius agreed, as he looked at the stack of snake-inspired mirrors. "…Actually, I think you've improved them…If only slightly."

"The Weasley boy's right, Luck." Berga smirked. "You  _have_  been spending a little too much time with your wand. When was the last time you showed your little girlfriend that sort of affection?"

Luck narrowed his eyes at his brother and scowled. He quickly glanced at Harry and his friends before saying,  _"Fottiti,_  Berga."

Berga just laughed in response.

Keith cocked an eyebrow, and Luck took on an exasperated tone. "Oh,  _come on,_ Keith."

The others laughed at whatever Keith had "said" and didn't bother translating, although Ennis' cheeks were bright red and an embarrassed Czes was glaring up at Keith. 

It seemed that the Americans' had gotten a bit of an audience (which they pretty much ignored) as they spread the mirrors out amongst themselves on the table. Luck took out a small cloth bag from a pocket in his jacket that was filled with various colorful marbles, and he simply passed a handful to the others. Each of them placed a single marble on the surface of the mirrors, and took out their own curiously ornate wands as well.

Once they were ready, there was the incantation of, " _Marmo, spoletta con lo specchio!"_

The surfaces of the mirrors glowed softly, while the marbles each glowed like bright white lights. It was rather hypnotizing. The mirrors' surfaces began to ripple like water for a few seconds, before the marbles slowly sunk into the mirrors to be absorbed by them completely. For another few seconds, the mirrors took on the glow of the marbles. Afterwards, the mirrors became the usual reflective surfaces that they were. Aside from the twisted snake frames, of course.

"Alright," Maiza began as he held up one of the mirrors, "This is how it works; tap the upper right corner to call someone, you will have to use their full name. Of course, they will have to have one of these particular mirrors. In order to travel, tap the left bottom corner. Just touch the surface of the mirror and hold onto the edge if you are taking the mirror with you."

"Can you give us a demonstration?" Remus asked curiously.

"Of course," Maiza smiled. "That was our next step."

Maiza then proceeded to pull his own mirror out of one of his pockets and tapped the upper right corner. The surface glowed white, and a surly voice answered,  _"Oh_ ** _great._** _It's your unpleasant face again. I'm surprised I don't crack every time you look into me."_

Maiza frowned. "Keep up this attitude of yours and I might just accidently drop you."

" _Everyone knows that's seven years bad luck, old man. Or has your age finally caught up with you?"_

"What's with all the cranky marbles lately?" Czes questioned. "I think that Japanese guy gives them to us on purpose for laughs."

" _Don't think I didn't hear that, brat."_ The mirror spat.

" _Anyway,"_ Maiza said with some exasperation, "Could you call Allen Swigart? Please."

" _So your 'please' is nothing more than an afterthought? I'm not surprised."_  griped the mirror.  _"Don't know why you even bother, gramps."_

Why was the mirror calling Maiza 'gramps'? He certainly couldn't have been  _that_  old.

The mirror suddenly turned an inky black before Maiza could respond. A far away ringing sound could be heard.

"Wow…" Sirius commented. "Those things are opinionated. They aren't all like that are they?"

"Occasionally, we get some that are more cooperative." Maiza said, looking annoyed.

Firo grinned. "I really hope one those crotchety mirrors goes to certain potions professor. To see that greasy bastard lose his cool with a mirror would be awesome."

"You can say that again," Ennis nodded in agreement with her husband.

At their comments, Harry stifled a snort behind his hand, Ron openly grinned, and Hermione looked as if she wasn't sure if she should laugh or disagree with her future professors.

Just then, the mirror's surface changed to show that of a blond man who was clearly in some sort of bar if the lighting and variety of colorful bottles behind him were any indication.

"Heya, Maiza!" he said cheerily as he gave a casual salute. He frowned. "Where are you? Is everything alright?"

"We can actually see your friend while talking to him!" marveled Remus in fascination.

"We're actually in England, and yes, everything is fine." Maiza replied to Allen. "We just made a number of mirrors for our friends here, and I'm wondering if you can come here for a little demonstration."

"Sure! Be there in a few minutes!" Allen hung up, or did whatever the equivalent was to disconnect a call via mirror.

"How is your friend supposed to get here?" questioned Arthur. "He doesn't have the address…"

"Ah, and that's where loopholes come in when wards are concerned." Luck said with a mysterious smile.

Maiza then held out his mirror to a clear area of the room. Everyone jumped in surprise when Maiza's mirror pulsed green and a man's limbs began to push out of the mirror. It reminded Harry of squeezing out the contents in a tube of toothpaste. Within seconds, a tall, blond man was standing next to Maiza, slowly taking in his surroundings. It was clear by the look on his face that he was questioning the décor, but was probably too polite say anything.

"How is that possible?!" Molly asked in awe.

"Blimey!" That was Ron.

"Oh, Merlin!" Tonks said.

"Everyone, this is a good friend of ours," Maiza motioned to their visitor.

The man grinned, and it was a smile nearly everyone in the room couldn't help but return. His presence was inviting and his demeanor spoke volumes of friendliness. "Allen Swigart, pleasure."

Allen was quickly introduced to everyone who was present before they got to where Allen's appearance could be explained when he didn't have the address to Headquarters.

"It's simple, really." Maiza explained as he indicated his mirror. "You see, the mirrors can be tied to their respective owner. All Allen had to do was tell his mirror, 'Take me to Maiza Avaro', and it was done. Therefore the wards you have in place here don't prevent people from mirror travel. For convenience's sake, the mirrors can even be tied to a location. If you like, we can have a mirror here in case a fireplace isn't available."

"A mirror is preferable," Czes' voice piped up.

"I'd rather travel by mirror as well…" Luck was very grim.

Berga mumbled something about "damn fireplaces" and "unnatural traveling methods".

"…Alright," said Remus. "That sounds good." But a very evident smirk crossed his features. "Really don't like Floo travel, eh?"

"I'd like to find the bastard who thought traveling by fireplace was a good idea and kick him in the teeth." Firo groused.

"I second that." Berga nodded.

"If I may," Molly spoke up, trying to get back to the topic at hand. "How would you 'tie' a mirror to this place without giving away its location?"

"We don't necessarily need the location itself; just a name;" Luck explained this time. "It could simply be 'Headquarters', or something else entirely that's less obvious. It's only when you are trying to get to a specific person that you have to use a specific name."

"Fascinating…" Arthur looked entranced.

Luck picked up one of the mirrors and said, "You belong to Harry Potter," before handing Harry the mirror. "That mirror now belongs to you and you alone, Harry. I suggest you keep it on your person at  _all_ times. Call us or anyone else who has one if there is ever an emergency."

The mirrors were then "tied" to their owners by the Americans telling them, 'You belong to [First Name Last Name]' and handing off the mirrors to their new owners or entrusting the mirrors to those who could give the mirrors to the others who weren't present. The rules were easy enough to follow and repeat.

One of the mirrors was tied to headquarters, which was now known as  _Scampare –_ meaning, Escape _._ Harry absolutely found all of this fascinating. He was sure Ron did too, although his friend would very likely deny being interested in something as simple as enchanting talking mirrors.

"Also," Maiza said very seriously. "If anything ever happens and you can't come back here, my boss says that all of you are welcome at our place. Remember the names;  _Destino_ and  _Alveare."_

The British wizards seemed slightly taken aback by Maiza's sudden seriousness. Did Maiza (and his boss) really think that things would get bad enough it warranted fleeing to another continent? Most of them gave their sincere thanks, with one or two commenting, "Let's hope it never comes to that."

Mundungus was eyeing his mirror almost calculatingly, and he openly flinched when an all-too-calm voice said, "Mr. Fletcher."

The twins and the Golden Trio had been admiring their own mirrors and all conversation ceased when Luck called on Mundungus. Luck had a smile on his face and a look in his eye that made Hermione do a sharp intake of breath and scoot closer to Ron. Ron on the other hand, grabbed Hermione's arm; as if preparing himself to bolt, taking Hermione with him at the first sign of danger. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck tickle; he was so taken aback by Luck's sudden change in demeanor that he didn't know whether he should run, or simply watch the scene unfold in morbid fascination.

"Mr. Fletcher," Luck said again, leaning over the much smaller man; which was considerably easy with their height differences. This simple action made the short man look up at the much taller wizard nervously. Luck didn't even give Mundungus the chance to reply as he continued, glaring straight into Mundungus' eyes. "These mirrors are meant for Order communication and emergency travel _only_ …If you use these mirrors for personal benefit in _any way,_ know that  _we,"_ he indicated his brothers, both of whom were glaring at the small man,  _"don't_  take very kindly to people who steal from their partners."

Mundungus gulped loudly as he slowly backed away, quickly glancing behind himself while somehow simultaneously not taking his eyes off of Luck. While Mundungus warily watching Luck, there was a strange flash in Luck's eyes. Mundungus' own eyes widened in fear as he suddenly backed away, knocking over a few chairs as he quickly tried widening the distance between himself and Luck (who didn't even blink) as his eyes followed the man.

Without a word, Mundungus was out the door in less than a minute.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room – at least, it seemed to Harry, that the silence was uncomfortable only for the British wizards. The Americans looked as if they couldn't have cared less.

"…I don't think that was necessary, Mr. Gandor." Molly's voice was stiff. She was clearly feeling the same vibes as Harry did about Luck just then.

"I don't trust him," Luck replied simply, giving Molly a casual gaze. "I understand that the Order is in dire need of numbers, but it does you no good when one of those numbers is someone willing to lie, cheat and steal from the people who should be his allies."

When no-one responded, Luck continued, "I have people that I trust; but that doesn't mean that I trust them with my life."

"Luck is one of the best judges of a person's character of anyone I've ever known," Ennis was frowning, looking quite somber. "If he says that someone is not trustworthy, I'm inclined to believe him."

Honestly, no-one could argue with that logic, and no-one could speak up to defend Mundungus from Luck's accusations. It wasn't like he was trying to plant seeds of distrust in their ranks either. Mundungus had already planted those seeds himself.

"I don't think you had to make the guy piss his pants, Luck." Firo smirked at his friend.

Oh, Merlin. There had only been a few times in Harry's life that he had felt tension this thick.

"Hey," Allen spoke to Sirius, likely in an attempt to dispel the tension in the air. "Sorry to ask you this, but you look familiar…"

Sirius tensed, and before he could say anything, Allen showed recognition. "You were the only one to ever break out of Azkaban! I remember reading a few articles in America." Allen grinned as he shook Sirius' hand, "Congratulations, that's certainly to be commended!" Allen then looked sheepish. "I once got myself arrested and sent to Al-eh, a high-security prison just to try and break out. It didn't work out very well."

Sirius was slightly taken aback at the compliment. He also looked as if he was trying to process the idea that someone like Allen would be sent to a high-security prison. Even though Harry had only known Allen for all of what had to be two minutes, Allen seemed like a genuine, too-nice of a guy who warranted being arrested. Apparently, everyone was thinking along those same lines.

"What were you sent to prison for?" Fred asked.

George wasn't far behind. "Did you actually break out?"

Allen grinned mischievously, and somewhat proudly. "A few things. It's a long story. And my method for breaking out was…"

"Was what?" Fred and George asked at the same time.

"A long story." He responded mysteriously.

It quickly became apparent Allen wasn't going to share any time soon. The Weasley boys looked put out about this, while Molly seemed to be wondering what to think of Allen. Who on earth got themselves arrested _on purpose_ and sent to prison for kicks? And just to try and break out of the high-security facility as well?

Turning his attention back to Sirius, Allen simply stated, "You didn't do any of the things they accused you of, did you."

It clearly wasn't a question of any kind, and Allen was being very serious – pardon the pun, as he looked Sirius in the eye. His godfather was surprised by this, and could only shake his head.

"Pardon my asking," Ronnie lazily glanced over at Sirius, "but what were you arrested for?"

When he received a questioning glance from Sirius, Ronnie shrugged. "Honestly, I only pay attention to things that either catch my interest or affect me or my allies in some way."

"Murder," Sirius answered bitterly. "I was accused of betraying and killing my best friends, James and Lily, Harry's parents to Voldemort…that is something I  _would never_  do!"

Ronnie quirked an eyebrow before he scoffed. "If you're a murderer, then I'm a saint."

There was honestly something very subtle and terrifying about that statement, in Harry's opinion. It made it sound as if Ronnie was somehow confirming all of Harry's underlying fears about him. But the other Americans all gave Sirius a look before pretty much telling him that none of them thought he was capable of doing something so abhorrent. According to Berga, Sirius "didn't have the eyes of a killer".

Sirius looked at each of them appreciatively, clearly showing his thanks.

"Well, as exciting as this was," Molly's voice rang through the somber room, "all of you have to get to bed now."

"Harry," Ronnie's voice stopped the boy in his tracks. "Remember, I have to speak with you."

Damn. Harry was hoping the man had forgotten.

"What about?" Molly asked, sounding slightly concerned; if not outright suspicious.

"It concerns him and his godfather. If you're so uncomfortable, he can join us too." Ronnie stated as he motioned to Remus, who nodded.

"I'll come too." Tonks said quickly as she stood. Tonks tripped on air as she walked around the table, very effectively banging her hip into its edge. Everyone in the room openly winced as Tonks silently cringed from the impact.

"Oh, my- are you…are you alright, Ms. Tonks?" Ennis questioned, watching with wide-eyes.

"Just Tonks, please – and I'm fine, thanks." Tonks insisted with a groan and a forced smile as she massaged her hip. "I've always been a tad clumsy."

"This way," Sirius indicated, as he nodded to Molly, letting her know it would be alright. Harry could tell by his godfather's tone that he would much rather be doing anything else than talking to Ronnie about Harry. Harry couldn't really blame Sirius after all; Ronnie was a very unsettling man.

"All of you come as well." Ronnie said to the other Americans.

They glanced at each other before slowly getting up to follow after Sirius. He led them through the macabre house, and at one point Tonks kicked some sort of decorative floor vase that was nearly her height and effectively shattered it to pieces. Everyone stopped walking for a moment and stared as strange, fuzzy spider-like crab creatures scurried out of the shattered remains of the vase and disappeared elsewhere in the house.

"I'm so sorry, Sirius!" Tonks blushed.

"It's fine," Sirius waved off the apology. "Just leave it. I hated the blasted thing anyway."

There seemed to be some confusion on the Americans' part on why Sirius seemed to simply not care for the things that belonged to him, but they said nothing.

After a few twists and turns through the creepy hallways, Sirius showed them to a room that was definitely overdue for a high-maintenance cleaning. There were cobwebs in each of the corners, mold on the walls, a few creepy artefacts that made Harry's skin crawl just looking at them, along with dusty furniture that would fit right in with a haunted house. Harry was pretty sure a few of the items were medieval torture devices.

Ronnie looked around the room, and nodded approvingly. "This will do."

"This will do for what?" Sirius asked as he put a protective hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You'll see in a moment, Mr. Sirius." Ronnie had long since removed his jacket, tossing it onto one of the creepy decorations and was now rolling up his shirt sleeves. "Tell me; have any of you ever heard of a Horcrux?"

**_oo~*~*O*~*~oo_ **

_1957_

_Even if the wizards were involved with the Mafia, they were genuine in how they treated her with kindness and respect. They were genuine in their desire to learn._

" _Until next week, then…" Minerva muttered tiredly. Her brain needed a break._

Unfortunately for Minerva, that break would be a long time coming. Although she had initially planned to see Maiza and the others a week after she had to leave the bar, something happened that caused the New York Branch to go into an upheaval. A month had nearly passed since she had last seen them.

Apparently, there was evidence of magic being used around various Muggle areas of Manhattan. The descriptions that had been given matched that of two rogue wizards: Barton Jenson and Connor O'Malley. Both of them had quite ruthlessly attacked wizards and Muggles alike.

While that was concerning, Barton Jenson suddenly turned himself in the day before yesterday, looking completely haggard and distressed, reeking of alcohol, begging for the New York Branch to protect him.

Minerva honestly didn't know what to think when Barton began to explain that he and Connor were attacked by some wizard just outside of Little Italy who had a strange creature with him.

"I'm telling you!" he shouted at the Aurors irately. "It was the size of a medium-sized dog, or very near it, with six wings! It had claws and teeth, and purple and white fur with feathery wings!" Jenson shivered, "And that…that  _thing…_  It spoke! It wanted to eat us! I couldn't do anything as it attacked Connor! I had no choice but to run away and leave Connor behind!"

None of the Aurors knew what to think about that. But it was upon viewing Connor O'Malley's remains that Minerva's heart lodged in her throat. It couldn't be…no way…Merlin's beard, it was  _impossible!_

O'Malley's body was a horrific sight to behold. His entire right arm up to his jugular was completely gone. His eyes had essentially been ripped out; as evident by the horrible claw marks around his eyes. While the creature that fit no known description would have been categorized as a XXXX or XXXXX, one of the disturbing facts that Jenson had shared with them had many people at the N.Y. Branch horrified. According to Jenson, the creature went straight for O'Malley's wand… Just like the others. The strange beast, whatever it was, had consumed O'Malley's wand, along with taking him permanently out of commission.

Everyone who had gotten the report had the same disturbed thought she did. The man was back…the one who had slaughtered so many people before suddenly stopping in 1930 was back. Or at least, he had an apprentice or at least someone who admired his work. For so many people, they pessimistically preferred the latter.

Pandemonium had broken out within the New York Branch, but at least they were able to keep it contained within its walls. People were worried about their friends and family members. They were placing calls telling them not to go out, and others were discussing ways to talk to the Muggle population on how they would reveal the news if at all, in order to keep them safe. This was a special case, and the circumstances didn't exactly allow them to simply say that a dangerous murderer was possibly on the loose. Minerva certainly didn't envy the people who had to come up with cover stories for the Muggle news.

At that moment, Minerva stood with Anna, along with numerous other Aurors in a conference room with Minister Bingham standing at the front, leaning somewhat heavily on his cane, looking very grim. There room was filled with excited and concerned chatter, and with a raise of his hand, the room slowly quieted.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice was weary. "I'm sure by now you've heard about the death of the rogue wizard, Connor O'Malley," various voices of confirmation spoke up. "Although it is unfortunate that we could not bring Mr. O'Malley to a proper trial, the circumstances of his death are cause for major concern."

Minister Bingham went into grim detail about the circumstances of O'Malley's death. Upon hearing the news, everyone in the room descended into panicked whispers. Minerva's mouth formed a thin line, and Anna had covered her mouth in concern. Because of the circumstances and the link to strange magic, they had been allowed to view the remains and perform their own scans on the corpse. It had also helped that O'Malley had been killed in the area Minerva and Anna had been assigned.

"The reason we are concerned," Minister Bingham sounded very tired as he spoke, "Please be aware that what you are about to see is…graphic."

Minister Bingham waved his wand, and a large white board came down from the ceiling, and a moving wizard's picture appeared, and the room was filled with loud gasps and exclamations of shock and horror. Various pictures of past cases flashed across the screen, depicting scenes of gore. People were missing body parts, or they had simply been torn apart beyond recognition.

"You see, for those of you who weren't here twenty-one years ago," Minister Bingham said, as he slowly took a seat and the pictures flashed by, "There were numerous cases very similar to this one across Europe and the U.S. and supposedly other parts of the world even  _before_  what can only be considered as the carnage of the twenties – and didn't stop until 1930. Unfortunately, we never found out why; thus leaving hundreds of unsolved but linked cases behind."

Minerva stared at the floor. Her mother had told her the stories. Horrible, horrible stories about how people were living in fear. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard Minister Bingham mention that the crime scene showed heavy traces of strange magic that had been left behind. It was the very same magic she had originally come to America to help investigate…and was currently wielded by numerous strange wizards. Oh, and best not forget that they were members of the Mafia. Minerva shook her head, trying to focus on the Minister.

As more pictures of people who had died in a similar manner flashed across the screen, Minister Bingham continued in his grim tone. "These people were witches, wizards and Mundane. Men, women and children of all ages, ethnicity and class. While there were those who worked at the Ministry or around the city, the deaths of the Mundane show that the deaths had nothing to do with the magical world – and all were apparently random. Although there were inheritances to be gained from many of these people's deaths, no known associates benefited from their deaths. Unfortunately, we could never uncover the reasons behind these attacks." Minister Bingham sighed heavily. "Whoever was behind  _this_ attack, we  _believe_  to be a copycat. Although the wounds aren't the same, there is evidence of that strange magic being used – although this is the first time we may have any leads as to  _what_  was behind those early attacks."

The Minister held up a file, "Mr. Jenson said that the last place they were was at a Mundane bar a…" he paused to glance at the file. "A bar named  _Destino._  He said that the man who attacked them was a frequent patron there as well. While Mr. Jenson doesn't know his name, he believes the man might be German or Polish."

Minerva gasped. That was the bar where she had visited with the strange wizards! She desperately hoped it wasn't true – she didn't want the men to be responsible. When Anna noticed and looked at her with concern, Minerva quickly shook her head. "I'll explain later. This is just awful…"

Anna nodded her understanding.

Minister Bingham than handed out assignments for everyone; what they should be doing at the Branch, while others were assigned to investigate locations across Manhattan and various parts of Little Italy along with other parts of New York, and by the luck or misfortune of Merlin, Anna and Minerva were tasked with going to the bar, along with talking to the resident witches and wizards in the area, and any Mundane if possible. With the final words of "be very careful" everyone left to go about their assigned tasks.

"Aurors McGonagall and Silverholt," a voice called out before they could leave. A witch approached Minerva and Anna, looking very stiff as her mouth formed a grim frown.

"Hello, I'm Heridita Renolds." She offered a firm handshake to each of them. "I work with Mundane, witch and wizard relations in Little Italy. I thought that I should warn you. According to the reports that I've received recently from Mundane-born with family in that area, there seems to have been severe unrest within the Mundane community; namely, various Mafia Families having a rather violent turf war that has involved civilians."

"Of course," Anna nodded.

Minerva was silent, as she was now worried. What was going on and why? Things had been peaceful a month ago. Were those wizard alright? Were they the ones involved? Were they the ones attacking civilians…? Ugh… No, they couldn't be. Minerva had spent enough time with them that she could say without uncertainty that they wouldn't go around attacking innocent people.

Besides, they didn't want trouble and they had kept to themselves. Minerva was sure something else was going on here. Her thoughts were interrupted by Anna who had placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks for letting us know, Heridita," Anna was saying, "Minerva and I will be careful."

Once they were outside, Anna turned to Minerva. Minerva didn't even need to ask to know what Anna wanted. The woman was concerned for Minerva's well-being. "I'm alright," Minerva said. "It's just…I've never seen anything like that before…my mother told me the stories."

Anna nodded grimly. "People were terrified to leave their homes during that time, you know…" Her eyes became downcast. "My mother was terrified for my father and her brother every time they left their homes. The attacks occurred every few days… We didn't think anyone was safe. The longest time that went by with no incident was about two weeks, but… This person targeted both wizard-kind and Mundane randomly – whoever it was supposedly even magically tortured some people before killing them like that..." a small, sad smile showed on Anna's lips. "When it finally stopped,  _really_  stopped, we were so happy…numerous families got together and celebrated," Anna gave a dry laugh. "In fact, we even celebrated whoever and whatever made this person finally stop their killing spree."

Minerva didn't like imagining living like that. A part of her wondered if the Mafia wizards even knew who this person was. She had the sneaking suspicion they did. But…

"Anna, I…" Minerva started. "I know the pub-I mean, bar. I actually met the owners a little over a month ago. I interviewed them about the various strange magical incidents in the area. They didn't really seem to know anything."

Well, Minerva reasoned with herself, she was being halfway honest. The men knew nothing about  _her_  kind of magic. But Minerva hated to use reasoning as an excuse to lie to her friends.

"Really?" Anna raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why was it considered to be a Mundane bar, then?"

"I'm not sure." Minerva shrugged, in guilt mostly. She knew exactly why. "Perhaps they want any business they can get? If it was primarily a wizards' bar, they would probably be relying on any business they could get."

It was rare, but sometimes business owners of the magical community in America would offer their services to the Muggle population. The tentatively increasing trend was mostly popular with bookstores, curio shops and herbal shops; as they could easily hide anything magical with enchantments, all while still selling their wares – of the non-magical variety of course, to the Mundane. Apparently when they had been questioned about violating the  _'Statute of Secrecy',_  they weren't technically breaking any laws; simply by the fact that they were not explicitly sharing or showing anything of a magical nature.

The trend for a variety of reasons, wasn't very popular with the British Ministry of Magic. In fact, when the initial request from the N.Y. Branch came to the British Ministry for an experienced Auror's assistance, only three Aurors (including Minerva) even volunteered. In order to prevent any international incidents, the British Minister of Magic simply sent the three Aurors to America without much question, not wanting to deal with whatever problems the Americans were having for a prolonged amount of time.

It was honestly pretty much, 'Go see what their problem is and try and fix it as quickly as possible. No dawdling. Come back as soon as the assignment is cleared.'

Of course, there had also been a few snide comments about the Americans and their incompetence, acceptance of Muggles, along with warnings against letting the Americans poison the British Aurors' minds.

Oh, Merlin…why on earth did the Americans have to break away from tradition? A part of Minerva felt that this trend was far more trouble than it was worth.

"Perhaps," Anna shrugged and then sighed. "Well…let's get going then. At least you know these people; maybe they'll be willing to talk to you."

But what if they weren't willing to? Minerva sighed, trying not to think about that. She would just do her job, and report back to the Minister.

When the pair tried to Apparate into an alley beside the bar, they found that they couldn't. There was some sort of powerful ward preventing them from doing so. Minerva knew for a fact that the ward hadn't been there before. What was going on?

They ended up having to Apparate nearly a mile out from their destination, and were simply forced to grin and bear it and walk the remaining mile to the bar. Minerva looked around as they walked, and quickly noticed the tense atmosphere. In a part of the city that was usually so lively and friendly, the people kept their heads down and went out of their way to keep to themselves. Not even the usual street vendors were out. Anna, who had never even been to this part of town, could see it too. Her eyebrows were laced with concern as she took in the sight of the clearly frightened people.

When Minerva tried to engage a friendly bit of conversation with a woman they were passing to try and find out what was going on, the woman she asked went wide-eyed with fear and shook her violently. In a hissed whisper that Minerva had to strain her ears to hear, she said, "I know  _nothing!"_  before brushing past Minerva and Anna walking even faster.

"I wonder how bad it's  _really_  gotten…" Minerva sighed sadly, thinking of the terrible events that had to have happened to make such a beautiful and usually friendly area of the city so unsettling.

Anna motioned for Minerva to lead the way as she had been to the Mundane bar before, so Minerva did just that. She decided to keep her head down as well – she didn't want whatever attention these people were trying to avoid being on her and Anna.

As the approached the bar, Anna took charge and marched to the entrance of the bar. The establishment was clearly closed at the moment, but such a thing would not deter Anna. She neatly knocked on the front door and waited for someone to answer it. Minerva stood just behind her, wondering what was going to happen. As soon as they heard the locks on the door clicking, Anna pulled out her Ministry badge. Minerva's eyes widened briefly.

Throughout her conversations with these wizards, she had never told them about the specially designed badges that American Aurors used. While Muggles saw whatever the witch or wizard holding the badge wanted them to see, a person with magic would pretty much see nothing more than a blank piece of paper along with the N.Y. Branch's Auror badge. British Aurors simply wore pins that indicated their position and rank, and Minerva simply wore hers indicating as such. A part of her worried about them somehow being exposed as the non-traditional wizards they were.

It was Allen who slowly opened the door, his usual smile not present. In fact, he almost looked haggard. He did not look the least bit welcoming. Allen observed Anna for a moment before his eyes fell on Minerva, which went slightly wide in recognition.

Minerva wasn't sure what expression it was that crossed his features…but then she realized that it was relief.

"Minerva, you're…you're alright." Allen paused as if he had meant to stop himself from saying such a thing.

Although Anna momentarily glanced between Allen and Minerva, she went straight down to business as she raised her Auror's Badge, saying, "Hello sir, I'm Anna Silverholt, and this is Minerva McGonagall. Mind if we come in and ask a few questions?"

Allen's eyes slightly narrowed at the badge and he turned to Anna in a suspicious manner. "Why is that badge blank?"

"So you're a wizard, then." Anna said as she put her badge away. "We're from the New York Branch of Magic."

"Yes…but why are you showing people a blank piece of paper?" Allen slowly opened the door to let the pair of witches in.

After they had fully walked into the bar, Allen quickly glanced outside for a moment before shutting the door and locking it.

"Never had a visit from an official before?" Anna asked curiously.

"Well…" Allen nodded towards Minerva. "We've met."

"Good to see you again, Mr. Allen." Minerva smiled, but she could tell by Allen's body language that something was wrong. He wasn't his usual outgoing, smiling self – although he managed something of a weak smile. Minerva figured that whatever unrest was going on outside right now was affecting the Mafia wizards.

"You too, Ms. Minerva," Allen said with a nod. "Anything to drink for either of you?"

"Not this time, I'm afraid." Minerva answered, even though she could have gone for a nice cup of tea at that moment.

"No, thank you." Anna was looking around the bar. "So is this a wizard's bar or a Mundane bar?"

"It's a bit of both, actually…" Allen was saying. "Although mostly Mundane come here."

While Anna continued talking to Allen, Minerva glanced over to see Maiza, Don Molsa, the Gandor brothers and Eric sitting at one of the tables. They hadn't even noticed her, and the looks on their faces made her hesitate even approaching them, but she had a job to do. She straightened her skirt and walked over to them with a polite yet firm, "Hello again, gentlemen," with a smile she knew did not reach her eyes.

All of them stopped their hushed conversation to turn to her. All of the men stood up, visible relief crossed their expressions as she approached them. Confusion crossed hers as she glanced back and forth between them.

"Minerva…" Maiza started slowly. "It's good to see you again."

Minerva felt like there was something in Maiza's words he wasn't saying. What in Merlin's name was going on?

"Have a seat, Ms. Minerva," Luck flicked his wand and two chairs were pulled up to the table. "And you too, Miss…?"

"Anna Silverholt," Anna provided, as she was introduced to the Gandor brothers, Molsa Martillo (leaving the 'Don' of his name) Maiza and Eric Wronski – whom Minerva was also officially meeting for the first time, even though she had seen him twice before. He had always hung back, observing her from a distance.

"I need to talk to you gentlemen about something that happened earlier this month." Getting down to business, Minerva reached into her pocket and pulled out a photo of Connor O'Malley and Barton Jenson. "Do any of you know these men? He," she pointed to the photo of O'Malley, "was murdered earlier this month, and this was the last place he was seen alive."

"We've seen him, but had no idea who he was. We didn't even know he was a wizard." Luck provided. "It's not like this is a place where people advertise that sort of thing."

"Who owns this bar?" Anna asked.

"I do," Don Molsa said with a smile. "Before you ask, yes, we serve both…Mundane and magic users. This is a place where people are able to simply keep to themselves. Since Mundane can be here at any time the bar is open, magic users can't exactly advertise."

"I see…" Anna said with a nod.

To Minerva, it sounded like a rehearsed answer; rehearsed in the sense of how one wizard would speak to another. And he was using the terms that she had taught them. Minerva was certain that if she had no prior knowledge of these men, she would think that they were the same as any other wizards. They could adapt quickly.

"According to Mr. Jenson," Anna continued, "he and Mr. O'Malley were attacked by someone who frequented this bar…while they may not have known the man's name, Mr. Jenson believed that the assailant was either German or," her eyes glanced at Eric, "Polish."

None of the men reacted in the slightest. They didn't even glance at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

Eric spoke up slowly, "Well…I'm Polish," his accent was very faint. "But I never interacted with either of them. I think I remember seeing them, but obviously they didn't leave much of an impression."

"Hm, alright." Anna sighed, "Let's get down as to why we are really here, Minerva?"

Minerva reached into her bag and pulled out the photograph of O'Malley's body. She noticed that the men's eyes widened briefly, but they seemed to be looking at the fact that the picture was moving; not at what the picture depicted.

"Mr. O'Malley and Mr. Jenson were rogue wizards," Anna continued, seeming to not notice the men watching the photograph out of the corners of their eyes. "Mr. Jenson claims that as he and Mr. O'Malley were on their way home from  _Destino_ , a man who frequented this bar suddenly attacked them for no reason," Anna paused, watching the men as she looked for any sign of reaction. "Using a six-winged bird-like creature that ate his arm and ripped out his eyes. He said that it sounded unlike anything that he ever heard. Fearing for his life, he Disapperated and fled to the officials."

There was nothing to indicate suspicion.

"…That's unfortunate." Luck said, and Minerva didn't exactly like that she couldn't read his expression, nor did she like how those two words could be interpreted one of two ways. Was it unfortunate that a man was dead; or was it unfortunate that the one who didn't die was under the N. Y. Branch's watchful eye? …Where _they_ couldn't get to him. Or _could_ they? Considering how easily they could affect people's memories, getting into the New York Branch would be easy. Minerva started to feel anxious. She remembered how Luck had read her like an open book. He was probably scrutinizing her and Anna right now.

"Are you alright, Ms. Minerva?" Merlin's beard…Luck was far too perceptive for her in this type of situation!

Her voice was far too stiff as she responded, "…Yes, quite, thank you…" 

Here, Anna sighed heavily. "Do you gentlemen know anything about the 'Carnage of the 1920's'?"

Here, the men glanced at each other, before turning back to Anna. That bit of history was something Minerva (and the majority of the magical population) was loathe to bring up. It was almost taboo. Of course, they wouldn't know. Not unless of course they knew who was behind all of it.

"…I've heard _of_ it." Maiza said, his expression looked almost uncomfortable. "But don't know all the details..."

"I'm afraid I haven't,  _signora,"_ Don Molsa said with a fatherly smile, "I'm not from America, and came here in oh... 1942 or '43."

Oh, no... Minerva immediately realized what they were doing. And she _couldn't_ call them out on it.

"My brothers and I are from a small, mostly Mundane town outside of New York, and I wasn't even born until 1929." Luck said with a smile that was neutral. "We were tutored at home, and only taught what was most prevalent to our education." Oh, Merlin…Luck was reading both of them, she  _knew_ it. "I suppose you wouldn't care to enlighten us?"

Plus, with that answer, they could gather information without being too obvious or giving away their ignorance. If Minerva were to protest, she would have to give a more solid reason than 'I don't think it's a good idea' or 'he makes me uneasy'.

"You see, throughout the first few decades of the new century, there had been these strange attacks…" Anna began, and as she explained everything, Minerva noticed a strange discomfort arise on Maiza's features. Each of the wizards were frowning or showing their displeasure in some way. In Keith's case, it was a stern glare at the table. Minerva presented them with more photos of previous victims, as it was to help point out various similarities between the cases of the past and the one they were working on now.

Anna grimaced slightly as she explained how people were living in fear at the time, and were currently in a panic since learning of the latest attack.

Maiza cleared his throat.

Both Anna and Minerva looked at him.

"…Yes?" Anna questioned.

"I have something to tell Ms. Minerva." Maiza's expression was unreadable to Minerva. "I'm not sure it'll help, but I may know something." Maiza stood, and motioned to Eric. "Wronski, you come as well."

Hesitantly, Minerva stood. "Alright."

"Very well," Anna pulled some parchment and a quill from her bag, and motioned to Keith as she moved to a new table. "Mr. Gandor, do you mind sitting over here so I can ask you some questions?"

Keith silently stood and walked over to the requested table.

"Now, Mr. Gandor…" Anna's voice began, but Minerva didn't hear the question as Maiza and Eric led her to a booth in the corner.

After they sat down, Minerva pulled out her own parchment and quill. "I can charm this so that it records our interview…"

"Before you start that," Maiza said, his voice uncharacteristically cold. Minerva paused to look at him. "I will tell you what I can on the promise you not involve  _any_  of us beyond what you've came here for today."

"I can't-" Minerva started, but Maiza held up a hand.

"I wasn't finished. If you don't agree to leave  _us_  out of the rest of your investigation, don't even bother telling your superiors – we won't even be here. I don't care what you say on your report; get creative and twist things around – but leave us, the Martillo's and the Gandor Brothers out of it, and what you know about _us_ out of it."

Minerva swallowed. At least…at least they weren't going to kill anyone, right? Was that a threat? It was so unlike Maiza, but did she truly _know_ him? Was the man who was sitting stiffly and giving out possibly veiled threats the true Maiza? He had lied about his name, for some reason...

"I don't know…" Minerva started, but she stopped. They were basically asking her to do on paper the very thing she had already done. She hadn't been completely honest with the N.Y. Branch Minister, nor had she been completely honest with her fellow Aurors. Dammit. "…Very well."

Minerva breathed in a deep sigh as she muttered an incantation to enchant her quill so that it would record their conversation.

"What can you tell me about O'Malley?"

Eric, a man she had originally pegged as being clumsy now looked at her with a neutral expression. He took a drag on his cigarette before glancing at Maiza, who nodded. Eric's voice was toneless.

"He attacked me." The man shrugged. "It was self-defense."

"What happened?" Minerva asked, honestly feeling nervous. Once again, her mind tried wrapping around the information she currently had, while trying to prepare for what she was about to hear.

"He and that other one, Jenson – they were so drunk they couldn't even stand straight. I tried to avoid them – went out of my way in fact; I don't go looking for fights. But those  _głupcy_  attacked me with their wands."

"Mr. Wronski," Minerva took a deep breath. "Did you kill him?"

"He died, but I am not the one who killed him." Eric shrugged again.

"Well, then who did?"

"I cannot say," Eric wouldn't even look at her now.

"You can't or you won't?" Minerva questioned. What if he was under a binding sort of spell?

"Both." Eric gave Minerva a look, one that she understood. A binding spell it was, then. Minerva than had a thought: could it be…that the  _wand_  itself, whatever or  _who_ ever was in Eric's wand had been the one to attack? But what in Merlin's name had been that six-winged bird? She had never even heard of such a creature, and Eric apparently hated birds…

"Ms. Minerva," Maiza spoke up now, interrupting her thoughts. "You know how we are Alchemists?"

"Yes, I do."

"There are those of us who created Chimeras," Maiza started to explain. "As you know, it's a very advanced form of alchemy."

"Yes…" Where was this going?

Maiza looked disgusted. "Years ago, there was a man named Szilard Quates, who found a way to create the Elixir of Life, along with a very powerful but out of control Chimera."

_**oo~*~*O*~*~oo** _

_1995_

_Ronnie looked around the room, and nodded approvingly. "This will do."_

" _This will do for what?" Sirius asked as he put a protective hand on Harry's shoulder._

" _You'll see in a moment, Mr. Sirius." Ronnie had long since removed his jacket, tossing it onto one of the creepy decorations and was now rolling up his shirt sleeves. "Tell me; have any of you ever heard of a Horcrux?"_

Remus stood rigidly as he only half-listened to Ronnie speak. Remus wanted to focus on what Ronnie was saying, but he was having a difficult time of it. Ronnie wasn't natural, and Remus knew it – or at least the werewolf in him did. Ronnie had brought out something feral in Remus, and it took just about all of his self-control not to overreact.

When no one answered him right away, Ronnie looked between them. He muttered to himself, "Did I get the name wrong? I thought that was what they were called here."

"No, sir." Harry finally answered. "I haven't."

"I can't say that I have." Padfoot shook his head.

"I don't think so…" Remus was eyeing each of the Americans curiously. Why were they being included in whatever this was as well?

"I haven't heard of it either," Tonks said, looking curious.

"Sir," Harry swallowed nervously. "What is a Horcrux?"

"A Horcrux is very dark and unnatural form of magic and is incredibly vile – even  _I_  stay away from it." Ronnie's expression showed how disgusted he truly was. The way he phrased it made Remus think that the man dabbled in the Dark Arts. "By performing a Human sacrifice, it basically splits the caster's soul, housing it in some sort of container – taking away their humanity in the process. Many people have tried and failed to do it, as it is a way to obtain a form of immortality. It  _can_  work, but it comes at a terrible cost."

Ronnie fixed them with a glare. "And  _don't_ be asking me how to make one. If you do, I'll assume the worst and kill you." Ronnie's words were clearly not an empty threat. "So let's remain on each other's good sides, shall we?"

No-one moved to object to Ronnie killing someone over the knowledge of how to make a Horcrux. Instead, Remus had other thoughts on his mind: there were even more ways to become immortal? Judging by how the Americans were looking at each other uncomfortably, it was clear that the Horcrux method was abhorrent to them.

"What?" Maiza's voice sounded tight.

"What does that have to do with Harry?" Remus asked, glancing worriedly at the boy in question.

"I don't know how it happened, but you, Harry Potter," Ronnie pointed at Harry, "are a Horcrux. I can sense the soul – or parasite actually (considering how small it is and how it's feeding off of you) in you. That's why Firo reacted to you the way he did. His wand-or perhaps his magic, could sense the parasite and immediately viewed it as a threat. Rightly so, too."

Both Firo and Czes glanced over at Harry, just as surprised as he was.

Harry shook his head, before asking slowly,  _"I'm_  one of those Horcrux things?" Turning to the Americans, he asked, "Why would your magic react to  _me?_  I've been in contact with other wizards before, and  _none_  of them acted like Czes  _or_  Firo."

So the same thing had happened with the boy? Then that meant that Czes was an Immortal as well. Padfoot glanced over to Remus, who nodded back to his friend. The Dog Animagus had also realized what Czes was. Tonks came to the same realization judging by how she was gaping at Czes when Remus glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Simply because our forms of magic are opposing to yours, I suppose. That is the best way to explain it." Ronnie shrugged. He wasn't willing to go into much detail. "There is a form of sentience behind their wands, and their magic's first instinct is survival – destroy any threat before it can be destroyed."

"Wait one moment," Remus held up a hand. "You keep saying 'their wands' and you also said 'our forms of magic.' Just what do you mean by that? …You really don't have a wand? …What kind of magic do you perform magic then?"

Ronnie had said 'Runes and the like', but that left things open to so much interpretation, that it left Remus mildly concerned.

When Ronnie laughed, Remus couldn't help but flinch. The sound of his laughter was best described as being somehow unnatural. The werewolf in him didn't like it. It made Remus wonder if Ronnie wasn't even Human. It was clear that his laugh had unnerved his companions as well.

"I'm getting there," Ronnie said the very moment he stopped laughing. The man's personality was all over the place, making it extremely difficult for him to read. "You're right; I don't have a wand,"

Remus' brow scrunched in confusion as Ronnie continued in his explanation, seeming quite pleased with Remus and his companions' confusion. "Because I use a different form of magic than that of the traditional, wand-waving wizards. You just might get to see it.

"Now, back to the Horcrux – I know how to remove it. I will, only if you want me to."

"You do?" the voices of Harry, Padfoot and Remus all asked in near-perfect unison.

"You can do that?" Tonks asked.

If he could get rid of this thing in Harry's head, then perhaps the boy could finally get some form of normalcy.

"Yes, but it is a very painful process-"

"Do it." Harry said with no hesitation.

"Not so fast," Ronnie's smile was gone, and he looked at Harry straight-faced. "You should know what you're dealing with here. You're sharing a mental link with Voldemort, and that's why you're experiencing the visions and emotions that you are."

"Volde-Wait, is that why Professor Dumbledore has been ignoring me all this summer?" Harry demanded. "Telling my friends and Sirius to leave me completely in the dark, not answering my questions, avoiding me at every turn…" Harry was obviously frustrated. "What the bloody hell?! If he  _knew_  why didn't he tell me or  _do_  something about it?!"

Ronnie simply shrugged, unfazed by Harry's rant. "I can't speak for the old man, but he must have sensed it. If Voldemort realizes you two share a mental link, he would waste no time using that to his advantage – clearly something Dumbledore can't risk happening."

Remus looked at Harry with pity. The boy had already dealt with so much, and now this. A thought occurred to him. "How do you know that parasite is in fact, Voldemort?"

Ronnie put a hand to his chin in thought. "I can hear what the thing calls itself. Plus, very few people give off an aura like Voldemort does, and the parasite simply reeks of him."

Ronnie certainly was…odd, to say the least. He may have unnerved Remus a great deal, but he was offering to help Harry.

"You need to understand something, Harry," Ronnie said, turning his attention back to the boy. "Because of your shared mental link with Voldemort, you have a doorway into his mind and could potentially learn of his whereabouts and it would certainly give you an advantage, but know that a door goes both ways."

Ronnie sighed heavily as he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. "You have a few options here, Harry. On one hand, we can simply leave the parasite where it is, and have someone here teach you Occlumency and Legilimency. The first protects your mind from intruders, while the second allows you to read another person's mind."

Ronnie gave a casual wave of his hand. "All of us are extremely skilled at both of those. If those are a skill you want to learn (and I highly recommend it) Luck, Firo, Ennis, Maiza and the brat," Czes scowled at Ronnie's name for him, "are the ones to talk to.

"…But know that Firo, Ennis, Czes and the rest of them," he gave a brief nod to the immortal wizards, "won't be able to come into physical contact with you without feeling as if their limbs are on fire.

"The next thing we could try is sealing it away. It would block your link with Voldemort, and would allow physical contact with the people here. You train yourself in the art of Legilimency and try mindreading and tracking Voldemort's movements. We go kill the bastard who is free-loading in your mind. But that would mean a part of him is still alive, and we'd have to do the removal anyway."

Looking directly at Harry, Ronnie said, "The last option, as I've said, is complete removal – but it's an incredibly painful process; this  _is_  a  _soul_  we're talking about here. Which also means that you could die if I don't do it fast and do it right. There's a risk I could accidently tear  _your_ soul apart while going after the parasite. It's also physically draining. You won't be able to move for two or three days because you will be completely drained. No spells or potions will be able to wake you up. Your body will simply have to wake up when it is ready."

Remus heard Harry take a deep breath. It was good that Harry was considering his options.

Harry smiled wryly. "I guess this almost makes me enough of a head-case that I probably belong in the mental ward at St. Mungo's. Everyone says I'm crazy anyway."

"You know you don't have to do this, Harry…" Padfoot's voice more than easily gave away how concerned he truly was. Even so, Padfoot turned to Ronnie. "You  _can_  help him and you know what you're doing?"

"Promise." Ronnie answered impassively.

"Well…" Harry sucked air through his teeth. "I suppose that the single pro outweighs all the cons." Taking in another deep breath, Harry looked right at Ronnie. "Take it out."

"Very well," Ronnie clapped his hands together. He gave a twisting flick of his wrist and a piece of chalk appeared in his hand. "Would one of you mind getting me some rope?"

Remus complied by conjuring the desired rope, and Ronnie nodded his thanks. Ronnie also took out a red cloth from somewhere and twisted it. He handed it to Harry saying, "You'll want to bite down on that when we begin. I don't think anyone here wants you to accidently bite your own tongue out. Or choke on your own blood. Neither is very pleasant."

"Uh…doesn't really sound like it." Harry mumbled as he looked down at the red cloth.

Ronnie got down on one knee as he began drawing circles and symbols on the floor, eventually creating a very complicated-looking array in a matter of minutes. Those symbols…Remus thought that he recognized a few of them as being from various forbidden texts. He was about to ask, but Harry had his own question.

"…So," Harry began as they watched Ronnie work. "Exactly  _how_  painful are we talking?"

"Have you ever broken a bone?" Ronnie didn't even look up as he meticulously inspected his work.

"I once had the bones in my arm regrown…that kinda did hurt." Harry visibly shuddered at the memory.

"Must be an interesting story behind that one." Ronnie chuckled, but now he looked at Harry. "But this, imagine that but the feeling of being torn apart from the inside…" he paused, putting a hand to his chin in thought. "Maybe I should've warned you not to eat so much… hopefully you'll pass out before that happens though."

"What are these symbols?" Remus asked, inspecting the strange array that Ronnie had done. The perfectly drawn circle took up nearly the entirety of the room. There was just a margin of space for everyone to stand without crowding or climbing on top of the Black Family's macabre collection. "I think I've seen them before somewhere."

"Perhaps you have, it's an ancient form of magic from before wands were fully utilized."

"You know of the Lost Arts?" Remus asked, surprised. That was impressive. But he wanted to confirm his suspicions. "But I am curious…I think I've seen some of those symbols being used where Dark Arts are concerned…"

"Yes, I'm fluent in all of the Lost Arts," Ronnie stated. There was no bragging whatsoever; it was simply a mere statement. "And yes, before you ask, what I'm doing  _is_  considered to be one of the Dark Arts; this  _is_  a soul we're talking about here."

At that statement, all of them must have looked uncomfortable, but Ronnie snorted. "Honestly, souls are something I typically stay away from. Only an idiot goes messing around with something that powerful. Voldemort is a prime example of what messing with souls – especially your _own,_ will do to you." Ronnie had gotten rid of the chalk at some point, and motioned for Harry to stand next to him in the center of the array. Harry handed his glasses to Sirius and followed Ronnie's direction. "Since the objective is to destroy that piece of soul anyway, we'll get the desired results in the end."

As soon as Harry was standing next to Ronnie, the man said, "Alright, we can begin."

Remus glanced over at Padfoot, and he could tell that the man was silently threatening Ronnie if anything were to happen to Harry. If Ronnie noticed, he didn't seem to care. Somehow – and it bothered Remus to think as such – he felt that Padfoot would be on the very painful losing end if he tried going up against Ronnie.

Ronnie turned to the other Americans, saying, "All of you come here and take out your wands."

The Americans complied, and Ronnie pulled out a small dagger from somewhere on his person, explaining, "I'm going to have to make a cut on your palm, don't worry – I won't cut any nerves."

"Why?" Harry asked, making Remus feel even more uneasy. Was this even a good idea?

"Because blood is a powerful thing," Ronnie answered simply. "It will help ground you, and should prevent me from accidently ripping  _you_  apart from the inside out while going after the parasitic soul inside you."

"'Should?'" Padfoot's concerned voice echoed.

"Oi, we  _aren't_  gonna kill the kid, are we?" Firo's concerned voice piped up.

"Ronnie…?" Allen looked hesitant.

Ronnie merely sent his concerned companions a dismissive glance. "Well…there will be less of a chance of that happening because there are seven powerful magic users here, but the process is dangerous, as I've said. Oh, yeah. Almost forgot…you may see things that are…different, for a while. But no worries, you won't be going crazy or anything. It's just a side-effect and only lasts for a few weeks. A few months at most. Now, give me your hand."

What did he mean by seeing things that are different? Remus wanted to ask more, but the expression on Ronnie's face showed that he was completely focused on the task at hand. Harry silently put his hand palm up in Ronnie's outstretched hand, and Ronnie turned to his companions. "As soon as I make the cut, take your wands and simply point them at his hand."

Harry winced as the knife sliced across his palm, and when the Americans reached out with their wands, drops of Harry's blood floated up a few inches above Harry's hand and were absorbed by the tips of the wands. Ronnie than ran his thumb over Harry's palm, and the wound closed. He didn't even need to use a wand… Although the British witch and wizards went from being impressed to disgusted as Ronnie licked Harry's blood off of his thumb.

It was done in a deliberate fashion; as if relishing the taste of blood. Judging by the indifferent expressions on the Americans, this bit of blood-tasting seemed to be fairly normal on Ronnie's part. Well, considering how strange the man was and how he practiced Dark Arts, Remus figured he should stop being surprised by him.

"Alright then," Ronnie said, ignoring Harry's obvious look of disgust. "You three, stand back there," indicating Remus, Sirius and Tonks. "You don't want to get caught in any magical arrays. You seven, stand there, there, there, there, there, there, and there."

While the others quickly moved to get into their positions, Harry twisted the rag even more and bit down on it. He then tied the ends behind his head.

"Tie him up." Ronnie indicated Harry using the rope. "Pin his arms to his sides and bind his legs together. I can't have him wiggling around."

After Harry had been bound was lain down in the center of the array, Ronnie made one last inspection to make sure everything was in place. Remus watched as Harry took a shaky deep breath. Remus couldn't help but question if this would even work or if it was the right thing to do. While Remus' thoughts raced, Ronnie said something to the others in Italian.

"Get ready," Ronnie stood by Harry's head. "Raise your wands."

The Americans each raised their wands and pointed them at Harry, saying,  _"Bacchetta: si aggrappano a Harry Potter!"_

Remus was silent as he and the others stood watching the ritual, as orbed lights of various colors illuminated the Americans' wands. Each of the individual lights matched the wand color of its respective owner. These lights felt ancient, powerful and so very alive. The orbs slowly circled around Harry and Ronnie, and the man took a deep breath. If Remus were to be honest; if the sight had been under entirely different circumstances, he would have found the lights beautiful and entrancing.

Ronnie's hand seemed to shift; changing into something that didn't look entirely human. What...? This was _nothing_ like a Metamorphmagus. His fingers become bony, while his nails grew long and his hand became a strange, fleshy red-brown color. The mere sight of it made Remus feel uneasy and sick to his stomach. Ronnie closed his eyes and touched Harry's scar with the tip of his index finger for a few minutes. Suddenly, Harry began screaming and convulsing, and a powerful wind began whipping around the room. The array started to glow a bright blue color, and Remus could see the magical energy crackling like electricity throughout the design. The werewolf in Remus didn't like how this energy felt.

Remus had to place a hand on Padfoot to prevent his fellow Marauder from running towards Harry. Honestly, Remus was holding himself back just as much as he was holding his friend. What would happen if they interfered? At that moment, Tonks squeezed Remus' other hand. It was a strange and welcome comfort to have her there. Perhaps, without meaning to, Tonks was helping hold the man back from running into the fray to stop whatever agony Harry was experiencing. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus could see Tonks' hair changing color, flashing in between greens and reds. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

Remus wanted to look away, but couldn't. He hated seeing Harry suffer like this, yet being unable to do anything about it. Damn, he hated feeling so powerless and useless.

"Found you," Ronnie's voice whispered, and he began to pull somet _hing_  out of Harry's scar. It was a sickly, unearthly green color, and it squirmed in Ronnie's unrelenting grasp. The thing had a twisted visage, and Remus felt disturbed just looking at it. It made him feel sick, frightened and angry all at the same time. The werewolf inside was going nuts at the wrongness of it. This was a piece of Voldemort. He had no doubt about it.

Ronnie quickly moved as he sliced the parasite in half with his other hand. He hadn't even had any kind of weapon that Remus had noticed…just what was that? Everyone in the room (save for Harry and Ronnie) reacted as the thing emanated a wail that echoed throughout the room. Remus couldn't help but wince as he covered his ears. Each of the Americans flinched but didn't move as they continued holding out their wands, not wanting to disrupt whatever hold they had on Harry.

"We're done," Ronnie said with a tired smile as the array slowly went out. He knelt down with a towel he had gotten from somewhere and began cleaning what looked like dark green blood from Harry's face.

"Damn, I feel seriously drained after that…" Berga complained as he pocketed his wand and stretched.

"Understandable." Ronnie agreed as he undid Harry's bonds and easily lifted the boy up. Harry's body was completely limp.

"I've never used up so much magical energy in one go like that." Allen commented, looking at his wand. He then turned to Ronnie. "He's gonna be okay, right?"

"Harry!" As Allen was speaking, Padfoot was the first to run up to Ronnie and take Harry from him. "Will he be alright, now?"

Remus knew that Sirius was asking so much more than that simple question.

"Give it time." Ronnie replied nonchalantly. Remus noticed that the odd man actually looked more exhausted than he initially thought as he set about cleaning the array off of the floorboards. Ronnie actually looked like Remus did on a bad night when he had one of his monthly episodes. He was muttering to himself, "Can't have people messing with this…"

"Are you alright?" Remus asked. It was a question he actually had to work up the courage asking. All because he felt like there was something more to Ronnie than being a mere wizard who simply preferred not using a wand.

"…This was soul magic," Ronnie replied with a shrug. "Even for someone like me, it takes a lot of energy. Would have been much easier had I been dealing directly with Harry, but since I was looking for something specific…" his voice trailed off. He looked somewhat sheepish. "Sorry, it gets rather complicated and has quite a bit of explanation behind it." He motioned to the floorboards, saying, "I should finish this, and we'll be leaving. You go take care of Harry."

Remus nodded and turned to leave. He paused. "Mr. Schiatto,"

Ronnie stopped cleaning the floor to look at him. "Hmm?"

"Thank you." Remus managed a smile at the rest of the Americans who were helping clean up the array. "All of you."

Remus was saying so much more than those few words. The man was answered with weary smiles and a thumbs-up from Firo. Tonks smiled up at Remus. As they were leaving, Remus' mind was wandering. Maybe…maybe they could win this, the magical world would be at peace and Harry would finally be able to live a normal life.

After taking a few steps out of the room, Remus and Tonks heard Allen's voice comment, "Damn, I think we burned the floorboards with that stunt."

"Then Mr. Black will just have to get a new floor. Back away"

"What do you-"

The witch and wizard both winced as they heard a strange hum accompanied by a sort of magical energy, along with the sound of the floor being ripped up. Voices shouting in protest added to the cacophony.

"What the hell, Ronnie?!"

"You almost took off my leg with that stunt!"

"Why would you do that to the floor?"

Thankfully, the macabre collection of the Black House didn't join in. The silencing wards were still in full effect. The only reason the pair could even hear the other wizards was because they were standing right outside the door. A cloud of dust suddenly billowed out of the room, covering both Tonks and Remus in a thin layer of…whatever had been residing in the House of Black for the past few decades.

Tonks glanced back at the room questioningly before glancing at a chuckling Remus.

"I think Sirius wouldn't mind  _too_  much having a few people around who are willing to tear up his home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allen was about to say 'Alcatraz', but since it closed in 1963, and the year is 1995, and Allen looks to be in his mid-late twenties…yeah. Holes in his story, much? He also would have had his immortality/magic at the time (immortality received in 1930, Alcatraz opened in 1934) so he simply did it for kicks.
> 
> Fun fact: Firo, Isaac, Ladd Russo and Huey Laforet have all spent time there. There's a story there (with a magical twist. I know it!) and I might just write one or two for future chapters.
> 
> o*o*O*o*o
> 
> For now (1957) the Immortals can only go with half-truths, because the rules of their magic prevent them from revealing everything. In just a few chapters, what the wands are will be revealed.
> 
> And yeah, so Harry loses that piece of Voldemort's soul. Dun, dun, duuunnnnn!
> 
> *O*o*o*o*O*
> 
> Luck's wand name - Malizia – malice, mischief, cunning, archness
> 
> Fottiti, Berga – Fuck you, Berga
> 
> Piatti, Diventano specchi – Plates, Become mirrors
> 
> Marmo, spoletta con lo specchio –Marble, Fuse with mirror
> 
> Bacchetta: si aggrappano a Harry Potter – Wands: Cling to Harry Potter

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't mind being bogged down by random fandom(s) my main tumblr is adorkablemamebean. If you want to follow my side blog that is primarily for writing, texasbeanwrites-stuffhere is the place to be.


End file.
